Sea flowers and 'Do be carefuls' lace my sore worn journey
Rightfully so, for it is not one for the fainthearted
The world has gone far off with little falsehope of returning
I take notice.
Satiated with prim beginnings and the 'right' opportunities
The human race slacks and I too find myself stagnant
In earnest, I attempt to do something, say something,
Be the impetus behind something damn inspiring
Inept in follow-through, I aggress against another mover-shaker
Find myself removed
Radical in a quiet, rising haste that thwarts all progress
Slow swaying willow trees and basil leaves
Coercing me into a deep, narcotic sleep
Where blunt thoughts and sweet conversation pieces
Hush me
Turns out, slaving to the psyche is not what it's chalked up to be.