Two oxen  carry the yoke i stride
 One pulls out  the consequence
turns horrible to behold,  As always,
a volunteer overshadows the reluctant.

My existence is in the threshold
Like what I dislike, accept ‘what 
I cannot, a resignation I adopt 
to live in peace.

Comparing myself to an artist
 who plays second fiddle, I 
 propose and depose  that 
 which I can and cannot.

Rivers flow towards the sea,
never they do return, Similar 
be my procedure  as I continue 
never once turning back,

From where I came 
has become obsolete,  while
where I live  has become 
strikingly essential,

This being my progress
moving without a focus 
like a mid noon shadow  
 the one that is the shortest.