Oh, the struggle, oh, the pain,
The passionate power of the game.
You suffer and sacrifice, to little avail,
Nothing is gained without great travail.
You twist and turn your mind in knots,
But words do not come in great thoughts.
Instead, they come in little surprises along the way,
To brighten your struggle and make your day.
So it is the land that you have passed through,
Not the land arrived at that makes your due.
It's not the outcome that stakes your claim,
It's the journey through trouble that is your fame.
And so when I sit here and look at my tome,
I don't feel fulfilled; I don't feel I'm home.
I feel the ennui of an unfinished life,
I want to get back to that trouble and strife.
There's no satisfaction in the journey's end,
Only in the struggle with life's turn and bend.
Copyright 2001 © Ronald W. Hull