Immigration; Never complete World

Immigration may just seems a word

But to me; it is a world…

A world which is snuggling its endless adjoining stories

The stories are interconnected and interrelated

They are allowing me to obtain uncertain passages

Sometimes I feel they are making the labyrinthine

Dragging me to my intricate globe.

Comatosing I into an unidentified sphere…

Me and the stories are coming into existence and activating

We are then, appearing, arising, arousing, and commencing

From time to time I am purely drained of them

However they get ready of passing out, departure for their embarking

And entering upon revolutionary inaugurate moments

Then I am taking the thrust to set a motion

And I am making a beginning to be released to invent things again…

This world hits the roads and is getting under way

I incite it and initiate to instigate its discoveries

It is sometimes a sally forth, but I have erudite how to overthrow

After all; stabbing me to inspire and to revive

With its whispering is telling me…

Set out, set up, spring, and take the plunge

This world to me never completes, concludes, dies, ends, finishes and stops.