Again, I am pulled away from my rest
To finish the work that I started,
To once again see the faces that will no longer recognise me.
I cannot watch from above while my work is left undone.
This cycle, though long as it has been, must continue.
I am welcomed like a new comer, although I've been here many times.
Not here in particular, but it's all the same to me now.
I feel their constant anxiety of what happens next
But I know what happens next, because it is either a future past or a past future.
Soon my work begins, perfected by my past experiences
But something goes wrong.
A mistake, a foreseeable error left unattended, sends me spiralling,
Up or down, it depends on what I've done here, or how I've done what I've done.
I'm gone, only to return.
To be continued...