Thrown off the beaten path,
I'm slowly surrendering to lull of
insouciance that slithered into my limbs.
Heart palpitates, then settles
dampened by the trickle of rain outside;
time still runs like she does.
Always forward never back:
to do, to be, to say, to sweat, to grind,
to chase,
to chase,
to chase...
To what end?
Until we run out of breath?
Or we can sit, and wait, and ponder...
to what end?
Until we run out of breath!
I'm always asking why, but now I'm asking "to what end?"