No Great Work

It is something of a sudden shock
to realize the amount of time I have wasted.
In excess of seven years now
engaging in the wrong activities.
Intentions may be pure,
but intentions do not erase actions,
and you so clearly spoke away
the work that I have done.
With a simple exhale, the entirety of our entanglement unraveled.
Does work count if it was all the "wrong stuff"
or does it melt into the ether with every last breath?
The unrealized potential of my striving dissolves.
To find that the dedication is not wanted.
There is nothing for me here
but I cannot leave.
The ties that bind,
however in error they were made,
despite their ill-formed existence
they remain.