You once were will.
    Will who's eyes aligned
    my own so still.

    But then, your ageless eyes
    Spoke tales of love and loss,
    And whispered to blue skies:

    'I am not Will,
    My time has passed,
    I must be still.'

    And there you stood so weak,
    Exhausted, worn, crippled,
    And there I stood so meek.

    That's when I saw
    Your wrinkled hand
    And stared in awe.

    'Will I am no longer.'
    You had whispered to me,
    'I believe you stronger.'

    I'll bear the name
    With pride and joy—
    And claim its fame,


    That I Will,
    With meek ordeals
    ---
    My dreams of choice.