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Wars & Waiting Games.

Ever-concerned by origins,
plagued by what may be to come.
Explanations void, at least in terms
of the conventional,
appropriate preparations
are forever uncertain.

Are these short-circuits or upgrades,
or just my inadvertent
donations to diversity
by virtue of existing?

If I knew from whence it came,
would that gnosis provide
a cure or just a reason?
Is to know to control?
Does understanding serve evolution?

Keep running after, running from,
as I strive to stand still,
hoping to find chaser and chased
one and the same after all.

Reunion, dissolution, transformation.

Stand tall now, stand my ground,
hold my own, even though
what comes up must
come down until I reach so high,
until I manage to fly beyond
this crushing atmosphere
and embrace the bigger picture.

The thirst to evolve.
The need for ground.
Yearning for the sky,
aching for roots that worm
deep into the soil.

Instinct wrestles enlightenment,
like two immortals, one
occasionally achieves a chokehold.

To suffocate, it’s just a phase.

Must breathe deep and steady now,
fire of determination insists
I shall find a way.
It will be okay.

Just have to battle on
through this waiting game,
fight to survive to that moment
of discovery.

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