Nestled in the quiet moments before nightly repose, I offered a question.
The reply was routine, founded in hesitation.
This morning I awoke with a sour taste upon mouth, and none closer to the answers in which I sought.
A visceral battle, that struggles not to be fought.
A stalemate, a foreseeable impasse, and strange waters in which I swim.
The response I seek, lies as mine, only to be found within.