Chasing my Mojo, smoke in my hands...
Eyes closed, my Hope open.
Can't push-pull, can't climb, crawl or dig...
The harder I try,
The further away I get.
Standing still brings me closer.
Yet, just when I'm there,
I reach to quickly
Or hold too tightly...
I forget myself and the chase begins anew.
I am always finding... and losing...
And finding again.
My Mojo, like my life,
A work in progress.