Soon there will be serenity, I fantasise,
While plodding along uniformly along a turbulent path,
But if a bump is too big, what should I do?
I'm not in the state to buffer in transit.

Am I walking as though I'm in the place I hope to be?
Though if I were there, I would know how to get there;
I'd be experienced in traversing this changing climate.
But I've experienced a lot, so what exaggerates my response?

Is it delusion? It's hard to tell sometimes; my desires gets ever closer.
Perhaps its a logical error; correctness is often relative in such matters.
My surroundings must contribute, but shouldn't.
Or maybe it's simply habit? Addiction?

But as time proceeds, everything becomes more convex;
Views layer on each other, with the fundamentals out of sight.
Other's views can help or, more often, obscure further.
Though still, every so often, I understand and see a little more.