The prize has been set
The price to be met
There is an opening overhead
Matters need to be solved before we go to bed
There has been something unsettling
The soul and the mind are wildly wrestling

The aim has been to find the summit
In the scribes we read of heroes who can count it
There will be few who will account for pouncing
The pants of the upheaval direct who will wear the pants
The colour embossed in the mast of the mud bosses you unless you are a panther

In the corners of my soul the pictures form a montage
Confidence is winning tool for the seeker and his entourage
His poise and clear precision, the vivid vision all at large
I wonder in my wandering while watering the plant of my future decayed body
In the derision of the photography I have a decision to make to mark this monopoly

In the constructs of the ***** mental designs
There is a colour line that hints of a separation
Contrasting emotions in this ocean of corruption
No passion to ponder on as if looking at oneself on a pond
Just eruption and temporary satiation of a concocted false imagination
A fallacy which is hypocrisy to demonize delinquency driven by democratic debauchery
In offering one's presence to gift the box of society some fitting propriety
You lose your footing because of the escalating changes in the gravity of balanced sanity

This would riddle any walking and moving mind but will catch the eye of the seated paradigm
Dissecting each section of the situation at this cyclic station
Are we vibrating to the desired frequency or are we visiting waves that lead us to farewell before we've frequented our painted haven?
In the position of being seated, the noise quieted and the marking erased
You easily trace the place that you have to face before you can embrace the stool that pools you in an estuary
You rest at once and maybe there's your ferry or maybe just a rocking chair giving you perception from where you swing back and forth.