I hold myself in my arms
like a vise driven tight
only I control the pressure
yet somehow it is beyond my grasp
the world spins madly
like a dervish gone wild
I plant myself firmly against it
futile though that may be
it isn't the world that arrests me
but my own will with which I wrangle
in vain attempt to attain
the slightest of control
the world scarcely notes
this futile and fruitless fray
as one attempts to win
over that which will not be won
I am master of my will
and servant to the same
I muster all of my force
as it is mustered against me as well
the sun sets
the sun rises
I am still here
and yet I have passed away