Draw for me the elements that make this life,
And show me how they connect to substantiate my futile efforts.
Is the continuum of my failed trials part of inevitable tribulations?
These tribulations, do they have any regard for my future?
Are they without conclusion?
Cool my neurosis: are my collapses universal?
You say there's a light at the end of the tunnel,
This light you speak so surely of, you are positive that it's not just you it burns for?
I'm frighteningly close to a hopeless ending; my light is burning out.
Even the flicker of a proven hope of ignition could give rise to a flame;
To, at least, feel the tease of confidence towards a meaningful purpose,
I can, then, delude myself to be in the constant pursuit of that viable fragment that I can label: a rewarded success.
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