The myriad
Of emotions
That ambush.

The ceaseless
Conflict of
Running
The gauntlet,

The flinching pain
Snagged in
The crossfire.

The headlong
Swoop through
Fiery hoops
The skipping
The dancing
And all that form part
Of this carnival
We call life.

The thrashing
And spluttering
In the briny deep
The foot-stamping
Belly-scraping
Lows,
And all that comprise
This jamboree
We call life.

And,
If I should die
I will rest
In reassurance
Of knowing
My essence
Rests in
This notebook
And those
Who care
Who dare
To read
My take,
Will know,
The quintessential
Me.