The squabbles of lifes fortuitious adventures...

As the tears pour from my eyes I ponder,
I ponder, I ponder, I ponder.
Wandering wishfully without wrath,
Wander outside the scope of our own misfortunes.
Life.
Living individually for everyone,
Everyone for individually (we) live,
Or do we live for life instead.

A marriage broken,
Not shattered.
Not without its amazement.
Not for thou art to be true,
A knot for which a tie shall undo.

Here we steep in the shackles of our rhymes,
-- What --
Here we steep together in our crimes,
-- Why --
For here we are in our squabbles of life
-- How --
For this is how we move forward in strife.

Life without passion isn't life,
Life isn't passion without life.
For what then hitherto is life,
Life is hitherto then what for.
All the glories and fortuitous adventures...
But, of course.
But, of course.

A misery seeping slowly, softly, suddenly,
An orgasm of life like the rippling of a soul,
Forever surrendering the adventure to the squabble,
Enduringly, courageously, blazing through the flames.

Just as it was done once before.
And once again it shall be done.
Life to be lived.
Life to be lived.