Stuck. He is stuck. Barricaded in the lower level with his thoughts. He is trapped without a medium out. No way to talk, no way to express. The tasks consume him, drowned him, take him to another place. This place demands him, drags him, gone without a trace. In this hole it’s perfection, none less, rigorous, arduous. In it, he feels progress, headway, success. The dichotomy pulls him in both directions, strong emotions keep concentrations. That focal point right here, right now, delivers him, he disavows. It’s strength from Him that he derives the will, to keep on going, right up that hill. The top rises sun, through cloud and darkness, beauty overwhelms, words don’t express. The plight of the worker, this tale will go on…the distress from the journey, the melody of the song.