The Insignificant

The needlessness of daily existence
has borne fruit in the pit of the belly of hope.
Striving is the mother of thriving,
but success drowns in the sea of helplessness,
for how can he act if he finds fact in emptiness.

Unfulfilled desires meet sloth-like ambition.
Doors once thrown open without intent
are locked even to the hammer of fate.

Never ending is the burning of want,
the immenseness of dreams,
but the roads that lead have rotted,
the wheels of hope have flattened,
and the signs to trust are uprooted.

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