a trek tireless

For if one were to cease

if one were to evaporate

to fold

to ashen

to loosed one's grip too much

one would fall from the grace of one's grace.

one would wilt, perish

and

de

com

pose

into the nothingness of one's non-existance

as though one never was

and therefore

unwarranted even in concept(ion)

One awakes

reluctantly

this most miserable pointless morrow

exclusively

for the sake

of one's own self