Exacting By redpathetic It's down now, to another line, Where I suss out what has come through, The crazy chaos, To have any, movement of meaning, To make passion in my heart. The high, always, is what I seek, Of feeling I am on the right path, Travelling the right way, Or as close as possible, That is always the right path. Missing, parts, and parts that impede, my footsteps, Are all part of this, attempt, at feeling high, Susatainably. God knows, If anyone does, It's all I live for. Who lives for anything else? I don't understand them, Those who seek a high by means of which I do not understand. All I know is, it is, exactly, exact, And there is nothing more exact. Dull, it be, in theory, Dull, in practise. Dull, except when one has what one seeks. Dull, except when we are fulfilled, Dull, except when we have our way.