The Artisan tongue and Linguistic,
Likes of the melted cheese upon the mouth,
And the gift of tamoto soup in winter tundra.

Those are the gift that I seek upon,
As an indentured servant looking upon the wonders of aurora boreal,
Or a spiritless soul seeking to quench the inner fiber meld with ether.

Dream seeker with nothing to stand,
A adventurer without a quest,
Or the rebel without a cause.

Those days are but a distant past,
Forgotten murmur of mythic dreams,
As radiance dawn from each breath.

Come upon the golden kingdom,
And seek prize upon the window of glory,
While never stand in comfort of being normalized.

The suburban curse of procrastination,
The comfort of daydream,
The arrogant silence of enact.

The desire to seek greatness entwined with destiny,
Perpetual confidence grasp the very breath of existence,
And one would crawl out from nothing.

I breathe to be something,
And seek everything,
To avoid being nothing.

For seekers desire,
And desire seek every essence of breath another day to be all things.