Oh self, how you astound me
Never finding the place to be.
Always this or that
Never set firm.
Oh little wanderous soul,
Will you ever settle?
Or are you doomed
To always live a nomadic existence?
So fragile you are.
You change with the turning of the tide
And the direction of the wind.
When will you set root?
What is your purpose?
What are you seeking?
What do you want from this world
That takes more often than it gives?
It is you that must conquer...
Must toil...
Must trudge...
And pave a road to be set before you.
Your dreams will not be handed to you.
This world is not sympathetic to your emotions.
It spins and rotates
On an axis of peril
As it has always be doing.
What you don't fight for
Will be taken from you.
Oh self, you must decide
Where your wanderous soul will take you.
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