Surroundings, check.

Where art though.   Push          over

Indeed. Do push me over this edge of complacency. Asiancy.

Many rides, missed so far. And I be chasing next bus.

Grab on. This time, we be propelling high. Refill, spilling.

Wind, gushing flavor and favor. Sweeping away sweat and regret. Blow, flow.

Hate to admit, but I can no longer cope. Space probe. Ruins.

My fellow astronaut. Hold on, to this train of thought...