A Rubrik's Cube on Steroids

Yet again, I sit alone in the library
Yet again, I am losing the motivation
Yet again, my eyes stay open with fear
Once again, I am my own worst enemy
With no timing
With no grace
I have respect near and far
Yet my psyche wrestles in the mud
Over the angles of life
Its chemistry
Its physics
Its biology
Its ecosystems
Its vagaries
I observe, but rarely listen
I act at times without thought
I think at times without action
I contradict with power
Therefore, I am secretly lost
In space rather than Earth
I reach out, touching few
I take more while giving less
More and more, though
I am seeing
The clues to the last pieces
Of the puzzle
Nestled under my nose
Beyond my large, busy mouth
One day it will all make sense
One time I will cross the finish line
With the cube of Rubrik
Its bright colors set in my hand