For a throat in which flow water and spirits,
it’s unusual that so unquenchable a thirst, should exhibit.
A growing, gnawing feeling of discontent,
does itself begin to present.
To those who seek beyond the material,
its source must appear clearly metaphysical.
A sense of underachievement and being less than ample,
of being an incomplete and half developed human sample,
of having done less than what one could do,
but even lesser than what one wanted to.
While one’s goals were undefined,
and the definitions of success were not stated,
how then can today the results be rated?
By intuition and feeling and nothing more concrete,
by that feeling which hints at one being incomplete.
Completion or wholeness surely is overrated,
these questions after all most leave undebated?
Such dilemmas maybe shirked by those who remain oblivious,
but what about those to whom they insist on being obvious?
The difference between the present and the desirable state of things,
is one which every coffee conversation with it seems to bring,
so much so that it has become a very well known bore,
but then again it is for this sense of incompleteness that one knows that there is more.
If things were to reach a plateau of satisfaction,
would not for the want of peaks to conquer, life loose its traction?
Its fun to drive for there is friction on the road,
so surely this sense of having done less, can only good bode.