And so, as the full circle has ended,
another cycle of events we are to soon face.

The inconceivable pools of man's mind
are but what becomes the wetness of their eyes.
There's neither a dispute of what's wrong or of what's right,
to those only foolish enough to live in between the means
of their own grey lies,— their own fleeting lies.

I must be deemed a fool,
only for the foolish to understand the words of the wise
Sort to speak, bringing myself down to the level
of those below me, for them to truly understand my tone.
As some would remember a poem,
others only remembering their favourite quote.
And at most, life is like every changing season:

The heat of passion are the summers of joy
The winter, a cold spell
of finding the means to survive
Spring is for those willing to jump back
on continuing their journey
And off cause the fall of it all,
is where we start all over again,-
hopefully to a good employ.

Tis become a question of:
What season shall this year ahoy?