This Way

Thoughts come this way-
in pencil. 
Blank rolling hills...
Tumbleweeds...
Colorless thin air...

Friends,
optimism & hope & holding on...
A little chink in the armor starts it all
 v
  a
   l
    a
     n
      c
       h
        i
         n
          g to the familiar base,
devoid of all but self-importance.

You're still reading this?
You must have a sense of humor.