Frayed to finally

I was born upon this rock in a place; and that I cannot change.
found my travels to its edges over time; looking for a place it might end.
my task simple; to absorb the energy of others and disperse it along my way.
taking tales and triumphs and packing them into the steam trunk of my being.
Learning to live and taste with a new tongue; finding fruit to satisfy my need.
no longer too stubborn for revision, and too smitten with myself to give in easy.
I challenge my body and its limits; oh but my mind has more of an adventure.
The paths fork and I say with fearlessness that forward is my only way.

                                                                                                               © Jeph Rants

Sub or Merge

Life of the bog is what you make of it you see.
The sticky sands that drag you below will never cease.
Nor the snakes looking to share their poison with the vain.
Glades have no need for your worry or pain, they will go on.
There are those who relish to revive with those bogs depths.
To start a new from the quagmire that this all has become.
No blame for the leach that yearns to take what you have.
The bottoms just repeat their cycle with or without you.
Floods come and clear the waters but never the troubles.
Those who live there must sink and sulk or build up high.
Flush of skin can be a sign of rash, so can sinking quick.

                                                         © Jeph Rants