It's Complicated Poem by Daniel I Brown

We’re clearly searching our extremities,
Hoping for a limit to our answers,
Praying for a line to draw upon…
Fortunately time gives nothing directly and we find ourselves disappointed, Formally finding ourselves at the start again,
We are successful in this illusion… timing a perfectly practiced entrance, And fate a swinging principle for our exit,
We're not sure what we're leaving behind,
But somehow we know where we're going,
Somehow we feel what's coming...and somehow...it doesn't make a bit of difference, and we end up with nothing, coming from nowhere, and going anywhere...