Wordplay 3

Moving through this depressive stage,
At a snails pace,
It is easy to allow the confrontation of self,
To derail an otherwise sane moment,
Though I know,
It is from these moments that I must build,
A life that I can lead,
Where personal truth,
Triumphantly proclaims,
I am I,
Drinking an elixir,
Concocted from the fallen tears of Angels,
My mind wanders,
Like a nomadic Bulgarian tribe,
In search of safer shores,
Lush and resplendent,
Like a coniferous tree,
In its spring best,
Though for now,
I must relent,
Sitting in an asphalt jungle,
With questions,
Ever mounting,
Answers to follow like the seasons,
But for now,
Content in the search.

SDM