I again in me am lost,
Restrained by the sound of my voice in the wind.
There is no tamed charm or lucid movement,
That brings forth a natural act within the play.
The game is always on and the challenge is difficult at best,
What do we succeed for when we become everyone else?
When individual specialness becomes a back boated myth to nowhere,
Is it irony or sarcasm to ones idioms that makes the difference?
A play everyone plays,
A test at one point everyone fails.
We are all not complex,
But neither are we all simple either.
So the question remains,
What are we?
Frivolous travelers looking for a place to lay our head,
Or someone special to enjoy the rest of our lives with.
The question feels unanswered,
And lost feels so much clearer than being found.