The Question

I need the fire again
The burn and scald
Of the urgent
As primal need.

I have grown complacent
Far too accepting
Of the mediocre
The banality
Of ordinary days.

There is no longer
An itch
Propelling me
To want more.
Without wanting more
There can be no
Achievement.

Suffering has become my meat
And pain my mistress.
I am devoid of the want of life.
The only thing
Upon which I can depend
Is for misery to hold my hand
To sleep beside me
To be my companion.

The enemy of complacency
Is desire.

The question remains…
Is the desire to desire
Enough
To destroy complacency?