You amble through every hour
In fortifying solitude;
With commitment to a life
That will define your existence,
And survive the short years of your being.
You envision the unforeseen fate
Of what is truly meant to be,
Yet perish to such nonviable ambitions.
But a strong aim can only be met
By a more forcefully spirited will,
And that blank canvas cannot paint itself,
Though you may feel resigned to sit
And create one such masterpiece,
A stroke at a time, in repetitive motion
And insipid movement.
You are keen in imploring for results;
Answers to the means
Of what may become of the creation,
But you must never overlook
The impact of each action.
Because the unity of every step in life,
Is the completion of yet another story.