Ornate Expectations

Fools mistake dreams for a gift, For the likes of whom the pain dies swift. Cycles repeat of fire unlit, Impatient and needy, for a high ’midst a pit.

A lesson against will, A lesson of control, Against control and thoughts awoke, The mind blooms and unfolds.

The nature of magnitude turns in glee, A daring task, I am free to flee. A risk against a time so nigh, A time when riches and smiles coincide.

Are there seconds enough, to preach what I please? Are there decades enough, for appreciation, false meanings? An opus for thought dares to be constructed, A transcending hymn caressing The Feeling.

I am the fool, and my intentions lie bare, Should a fool fall to earth, and himself from agony spare. The burden I share awaits a grand Eureka, A synthesis of sicknesses, an obstacle I leak now.

Must thoughts have bounds, be worthy of hidden feeling? Obscure lies should I obscure, For obscure times I must prefer? A lesson for and against bounds, Never lose a breath, keep a heart from beating.

Blades of wind ceaselessly whisper, Am I so grand to strip words off their nature? Bathe them, nourish them, and dress them serene, Make numb stories stun and poetically prosper.

Fools mistake a dream for a gift, Guidance for granted, hope runs a sprint. A cauldron half full, through which I mull and I sift, Impatient and needy, for a high midst a pit.