Striving and Spiralling

A purpose to strive for, a beacon to chase,
knowledge to be leant, but never in haste.
With hands that strike, yet conceal the flight,
a shadowed dance between darkness and light.

A downward spiral, a relentless spin,
caught in the storm that rages within.
Strife at the end, yet a flicker remains,
a spark of hope amidst the chains.

Wandering through the maze of despair,
reviving a life that hangs in the air.
For each descent is a lesson learned,
and every fall leaves a soul that burns.

To strive is to stumble, to reach is to fall,
but purpose demands that we answer its call.
A cycle that breaks, then mends once more,
reviving a spirit battered and sore.

With every descent, a new ascent blooms,
rising again from the depths of the tomb.
For the hand that strikes is also the one
that reaches for solace beneath the sun.

And so we spiral, yet we strive,
to find meaning, to stay alive.
A purpose to hold, a knowledge to seek,
to stand tall even when we feel weak.

The downward spiral may end in strife,
but through the shadows, we find new life.
For in the darkest depths, we learn to see
the light within that sets us free.