Crunch hard the monolith of hesitancy.
The purpose of plucking words will aid in which way, again?
Somehow the recognition of methods used, and how they have become overused,
Plays on no gain. No advancement, no clutching of ground gained.
No progress is no progress even when the dirty work of mental taxation is being paid.
I need a new detonator for this task at hand.
Before Spring springs sprouts of uncertainty, and they root in spoiled soil.
Par for the course of managing disarray
I need to plug in and commit to the louder bombs within my range
That open and blare the philosophical nuggets of purpose
That seed in my psyche and wait for proper watering.
Yes, that's it, there, there where the moisture needs moistening
On the planted path of worthy aggression and chosen sills.
No comments:
Post a Comment