We hang on for dear life when the hanging brings us nothing but strife,
it's the zone that we know
a comfort,
a place to go when we don't want to go
so we hang on.

I have hung on each rung of the ladder and have sung a hymn to the grimness of what passed as some pleasure and then I have dropped.

Dear life has a limit, a quick flash and we dim it, but we all want to be in it and the hanging is a part of the package.

Being cursed,
being well versed in the luxury of nothing to do
I did nothing, was less, made my share of the mess I was in,
hung on
sung on,
now
bring on the rest.

If the test was in the being in the doing and the seeing
I believe I have passed beyond what classes as half way and in another zone where I call it home where I go because I want to, when the mood takes me and where this life leads me is as much a mystery as it ever was.