The quest and mission does not end here in this cold green room the blanket on the curtains silent and the road outside well-worn. The quest is within it is burning and chastening and I hear it and know it and bear it gritting - it hurts me I say it bends my will and how do I respond to its turn its pill its potion of alarm? I try so hard to run on the spot to move without travelling to begin again when all else all else is gone. The quest is begun.next poem