Maybe Nest

I could tell you by what bothers you the problems you incur
It's only logical you serve your own neurology desert,
At accomplishment or worse, at the times that you are hurt,
And it binds you in synapses as the path into the curse,
What you seek is seeking you, Rumi rumored, be it true,
In your room a decent view, ancient ruins, people, new,
And the time that you have spent too occupied with what's not not contrived,
You die and it's not just inside, be wise 'cause you're not just alive,
You're death and gloom, something noxious can suck life out any room,
That heady fume, that heavy doom, that steady plume, that petty tune,
That also dies and forests from the recent ashes also rise,
And raise the next that sing a tune
And maybe nest inside the room