4. Belonging (Poem)

Distressed to appear
In the eyes of others,
Destiny unclear,
My will falters.

Falters to find purpose
In what once made sense,
Unsteady and nervous
Are my armory that mense.

Mense the imperfect dialectic
Between being and belonging
To a world so hectic
In which we’re simply passing

Passing is our curse
For we were never meant to be
Eternal; ephemeral is our plea,
Yet it never quenches our thirst.

Thirst to our need of belonging,
Over the feeling of being whole
Confusion is our toll,
To our wish of mending.

Mending our own doing
To bring unity
To what needs to be;
Harmony between being and belonging.