Introspection

So I sit again,
In pleasant morning air,
Ready to inspect
The wasted soul,
To make sense of
My time and
My journey here,
To set the red hollow
In tandem with
The grey matter.
But
The light eludes.
All I feel is
The echo
Of the day
And its clutter,
Smothered thoughts
And
Muffled words.
Thousands waves
Rip through
My veins.
The silence lures
But evades.
The session ends
Abruptly.
Things look
Much the same
But yonder.
And slowly,
The day unfolds.
With the
Cantankerous clamour,
Pregnant with
Possibilities and plausibilities,
Returning.
Mechanic motions
Assure breathing
Whither living?
Unanswered.

Linking with Velvet Verbosity: 100 words: Inspect