There's a restlessness in this fickle place,
A need for constant circumstantial change,
"Variety is, still, the spice of life",
A longing for perpetual exchange.
There's no happiness here in this quagmire,
No lasting contentment is to be found.
As soon as we taste it, the moment fleets,
Our feet never fall onto solid ground.
We're chasing reflections cast by our mind,
Thirsting for water in the desert sand.
Fooled by the temporal shift of our lot,
Hoodwinked by the magician's sleight of hand.
My heart yearns for a permanent answer,
For all my Dearest Ones to find their peace.
To abide in unending contentment,
And from dissatisfaction, sweet release.