Fleeting Discipline

I wrestle with discipline

I wrestle not because I don’t want it,

I wrestle because I desire it but don’t know how to keep it,

I wish I could tame it because taming it tames me

The flow is a wind shifting in seasons,

I can enjoy the wind,

Yet, I must sow, and reap in order to live

Creation is a blessing and a curse,

A blessing because the height of emotion is an orgasm steeping the very marrow of the bone,

A curse because it can be fickle beast, no matter if you summon it with the same rituals,

The same incantations,

The same rites,

It can still remain hidden or sleep.