Reality's Lyre

In centripetal quest
Our essence is borne
Are we so blest?
This-my cargo every morn

Round and round the spin
In painful pleasant play
Our fate a movie screen
This and every day

The dehydrating pains
I bear in silent screams
Strife - a thousand lanes
I ply even in dreams

I pray,see with your eyes
And conceive with your mind
How queer a picture, vies
to make mess of futility's rind

This breath perhaps a trifle
Substantial robes of apparition
A tiny tricky trickle
From puddle to ocean

The rituals I must say
A boring blooming flower
Life what more so, may
I ask, do you have to offer?

Is it the umbilical quest ?
Or the stomach's endless lures ?
The ever thirsty rest ?
Or the steady visiting cures ?