Nonchalant Symphony

Wading through waters of contempt; for what, your heart wonders itself to define. Shifting through forms of discontent; you drag yourself away from things that make you for them pine. Others who live in the moment; others, who care not for you. You talk to your voice when you hear it tremor; It tremors surreptitiously when a matter deep it has to speak of or unwind. When moments like such, amass in a pile, a numbness invades wherever; wherever a hole that it finds. The holes when plenty, from moments in past, cave in to whatever in them decides to encase themselves or bind. Entrapped in a net that tangles up further, when out of it you wish to yourself find. Find yourself instead, in a transitory peace; in that seemingly second you rejoice a grace, that to your name comes undone when with deep faith - resilience even- it you seek and mine. Then on your solitary walk, you walk on beside moments of leisure, to speculate your every thought otherwise escaped or confined. Such are the thoughts of me - my soul - wading in nonchalant symphony of time, time, and more time...