A Hymn to Aergia

The key to volition, is nowhere to be seen; the engine of ardor, ceases to ignite, and the wheels of resolve, remain static indefinitely Wrath begins to envelop my mind, as I still couldn’t find the key However, the seat of sloth calms me down— perhaps I should rest for a while… I have lost interest in finding the key, my destination seems to have been lost, in the abyss of forgetfulness anyway. Outside the windows of expectations, dark clouds of apathy coat the skies of purpose, perhaps remaining in this seat is easier, than chasing roads whose meaning, has long faded from my view. To you, tender spirit of all indolence, cradle us gently in the hush of slumbering air, where we surrender our final breath, of striving