waking up.

referring to my previous post; after sitting at my desk for approximately 15 minutes.

i think i have to fucking wake up my idea right now.

so much have been said
so little done.
the price has been paid
but nothing's been won.

somehow or other i don't know why the hell am i so restless.
maybe the lights went out after the first 3 months
maybe i saw the aimlessness of it all
but why did i hold on? and continue to do so
for love for hope for glory or soul
either one i have not behold.

without passion we would all truly be dead.
but can we force passion to revive
like a pheonix in the sky
arising from its ashes?
an optimist always looks at the pheonix in that majestic light
but have they ever wondered that it has been cursed with the process
of repetition.
dying and arising till the end of time