I Hath The Will

I Hath The Will

 

 

I hath the will

But not the words

To sculpt the foresights of my quill.

I wonder, oh I do, whether I would fall before I stand elated

Over the veracities I have created.

 

It is not, nor shall it be, the last print I leave,

Those books that reiterate all I leave behind,

But the retentions of those who graced and receive.

Laugh as I may, the libretti and literatures do hold my frame,

I would not be able to stand were I deprived of the same.

 

At a convergence, which path could one take?

Whilst persisting well-founded and calculable,

Can the path of vision become left in destruction’s wake?

One swipe of the eye, and my existence's toil done.

And who can remember the one moment amongst none?

 

In the fastest pace

I can no longer fathom what I am believed to ensure.

Instead in the concubine fantasy calls me to my null space.

That irrevocable chord, struck thrice

Till the work was completed through my peripheral device.

 

Once again begotten,

Irrevocably lost amongst the atoms and space.

Still my relic orts, not victim to time that’s rotten.

Rejoice; I am not gone, perished or deceased,

In its place, think of my marks, scrawling’s food for the mind’s feast.