Age is a timeless prospect.
Youth refolds into a thick mold,
Heavy and demanding
But continuously folding matted knowledge.

Forgiveness
A steady, strong suit handed out to each player
When it's true form is the rarest form
Of acceptance.

A fighter must be as sharp and as slick as a blade,
To be as critical and focused
As a bullet leaving the carrier when aimed
But not as deadly.

There will always be a balance
Nature runs on a cycle that all fumble on
In the arise of dust left behind;

In its presence
Becoming lost is about as natural as the cycle itself -
An obstacle can be overcome
In the way that a challenge lights a fire
In pride,
All must accept;
Smoke clouds are blinding
Having the urgency to defend
The drive to push harder may as well be lost too.

In the midst of a cloud
A branch could very well be a snake.