Recompense

There will never be an end to this.
A series of begun projects with no intended destination.
A string being pulled at for the passage of time,
No real point to it's unwinding.
I see now that this has all been staged.
I see now that the observation lacks an endgame.
But still the scrutinizing masses wait.
"He is sure to slip back down there soon."
"It is just a matter of time,
till all this plot and waiting is justified."
I am swirling in tithe wake of unrecognized intentions of my own awakening.
I suppose I knew what I was signing onto.
But a person changes.
An organism grows.
My 20 year old self was not accountable for my 10 year old desires.
Nor should a life at 30 be the remnant of decisions made in err.
So many changes past.