Would row without a paddle.
Vowed to the what's, the why's, the how;
Sitting idle, weighed the mind that rattles.
What matters is you're alive/of life now;

Into the cursory environment, gripping to memories
Of all ones you see. Is it over yet?
As you gaze back seeing tree roots distancing, you stay berating
to the mirror. Fiddle then pacing, stepping not to the future awaiting.
Omitting the transpiring minutes, sitting
dabble dally, idling the glad, even treading reflecting water. Why?
Just one hint to pave the path into circles.
Depths each curve, that pang thoughts that hurt a lil.
Lengths racing treads, only finding your miss-steps.
Befallen to shoulds, the cans consummating the cants.
Gathered theatre, with quips and ribbing rants.
Recognized concessions to your stance;
Ten toes down in the Stage...Cognizant
~Markie Waters~