The sun has risen again, despite the nay-sayers who wished it upon others.

I have no hand in this, I admit, other than being positive in the vice of sadness.

Streams always lead to something greater,

Tributaries of the Infinite fed by the prior.

I'm tired of boredom-fed riots put on by practical people

In need of a hobby,

And one-armed soldiers blind to the world

Out on a vendetta they wish me to be a part of.

My only wish is to be happy,

It is a battle I fight with myself with each grain of sand

That trickles through the neck of the hourglass.

Why take my battle for happiness I wage with myself

And put it on others?

They have their battles as well.

The sun has risen again, but some won't take the time to notice.

I have no hand in this, but I admit, I hopefully try to lift their eyes.

Rhythm has no sense of irony or prejudice,

And thus no laughter or sadness.

I'm tired of plastic direction keeping me "on the path"

When all I wish to do is some exploration

While I'm here.

If life were meant to be a railway

Would we have been given a steering wheel?

Tireless pursuits often abandoned

Because sometimes swimming against the rapids, chokes,

And I'm told of calmer waters downstream

If I would just float.

Happiness is swimming upstream though,

Complacency was never my strong suit

And I've always been more inclined by intrigue of the Source

Rather than worrying all my focus and positivity on the Final destination...

Why bother?