Money comes
money
goes pressure comes
seems to
stay
but it too
goes
The "good liffe" sometimes seems
like
its in our
grip
then just as suddenly it
slips
through our
fingers
frustration
lingers
self-loathing
creeps in as we
wonder if
ever
we will
be truly
happy or if we ever
truly
were
Not a
funk
but a reaching for
focus
a weariness of being
at the mercy of nature - both its bounty and its threats
Am I meant
to just crawl and grope my way toward
prosperity or
my perception of it
like some
earthworm?
But even though
the good that comes
seems to never be enough
and I'm tired
of being tough or
pretending
to be both patient and
positive
I persist
in the quest
for meaning
with the few
who
mean me well
I celebrate
all the tiny
victories
and hold pixels of
hope
as spotlights
in
my mind
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