Call it ... the search

At my best, I am the kick drum pushing my feet down the street to the beat.
At my lowest, mine is the heart found in the woodwinds, poring out melancholy from my heart.
At my worst, I am at battle with the evil hidden in the strings, an orchestra's song of deception.
At my height, mine is the soundtrack to the Tragic-Romantic-Comedy that is being, call it spring fever.

Life is a song. Right know my soul jumps and nods to the sound of a Go-Go beat, Prescription.

At their best, interconnection is the entanglement that gives life purpose.
At its lowest, needing others makes you vulnerable and open to pain.
At their worst, relationships are a gathering of people speaking in different tongs, call it a tower of babel.
At its core this kinship is the tether that keeps you bound to this mortal coil, call it the ties that bind.

Relationships evoke passion. Passion derives from the Latin verb patior, which means I suffer, endure.; I allow, acquiesce, submit.

At my best, I feel as if I have the formula.
At my lowest, the answer to the equation has been lost or somehow misplaced.
At my worst, I push from the table turn and walk away, "Man! Fuck this shit!"
In my soul rages a battle that seems unending. I ask God to mediate.