My time with this mystical mindset
forever evading my grasp,
the time withers away with the last word.
How many more words can I say
To be made ruler of my own destiny.
What way do I form them to compose
such a beautiful ballet that I’ve imagined
but been kept from.
How did these words that I’ve written
take on a life of there own.
Perhaps the magnitude of what
I believe is happening is exaggerated.
Maybe it’s only as powerful as the
amount of power I give them
the question stands.
For what purpose am I made so important
or am I even.