Perhaps it’s the drive

Perhaps it’s the drive
Repetitively intense
The desire to survive
In spite of contents

Which seem to escape
From a universal depth
A spectral face
Seemingly deep earth

In an obscurity
Of the absolute
Missing purity
But will confute

That depth
Which they believe
Is bereft
When up their sleeve

But they entice
Crashing all about
Slicing a slice
Unable to flout

What they hear
Between their ears
When they near
Neurological fears