How many times, must I swing from a height To an inevitable hollow of apathy and decay? Riding the crest of a 30 foot wave Strewn ashore to begin paddling the sea of life anew.
Stability is a still lake, calm and serene Yet lacking sublimity and inspiration Passivity, the bitter sweetness of fitting in Normal I may be, but seemingly dull.
If only I could be coherent When high, like tributaries to a river Each stream of consciousness Adding to a global master plan.
Exodus of the emotions, the Latin ecstase As it pours forth unending, without pause Elation edgy yet welcomed To some my words seem without cause.
Surely there is some truth Some empirical evidence that says Hypomania is unsorted flourishing Condensed and concentrated well-being.
If hypomania was a learnable, sustainable state, that energy would change the world.