I sit here and meditate, silently, I contemplate,
Mysteries so intricate, and plots of the syndicate.



With written words, I recreate, ideas that might penetrate,
These murky waters at the gate, but perhaps, such is fate.


But dare I ask, the reason why? The exciting feeling in the sky?
Or broken kin before my eye, is it just, that they should die?



Questions asked as old as time, what truly happens at our time?
One fact is, without a dime, what matters isn't worth a dime.



Will I persist and thus go on? Will I return, fresh, new born?
Or be condemned, ripped and torn? Will I cease and thus begone?

The breath of change, its sweetest scent, the storm of trials, did relent,
The murky waters did I vent, my countenance became unbent.



But before I bid, you adieu, here's a thought, from me to you,
Strike me and I do feel pain, but tell me what is another's gain?