Upon the gates, dammed up no longer,
Each free to burst forth with the current.
Yet it is the drained lake and stronger
Draw of the void, opportunities mint,

That I fear, that encase me in flint.
With each vain spark, I am chipped away.
I dig in my heels, another stint,
A simple desire, only to stay.

This is the beginning, so they say.
Yet in my heart, I feel only an end.
Time compressed, a year lived in day.
A mid-life crisis at my off send.

If only the course could be cut short,
A journey fulfilled never leaving port.