Ought, in an ordinary way
Secure, in the knowledge
Succinct, to what may
Focusing suggestion to a malady, its rage

Long looks at a growing concern
The taste of popularity, has a sight
That quickens at the touch of works
Of cope and sorrow, sophisticated enough, to might?

May not do that...
The lingering offer of simplicity to chaste
Tones of voices we have disguised, as a hosts what
And whose, the albeit stone of ridicule, case by case

Chance grows in tree's
Change grows in the fertile winds
Charity grows in the hands of dreams
Challenge grows in the voice which minds

Choking on a tear?
Saved beyond realm and norm, feasible?
And looking upon a torrid example of what we fear
The drama of passion to shield us, from ought liable...

A token appreciation, the known in direct opposition
Time is a ready champion, with a light for wayward might
Kept until saved from a burden in lament, a question
Is the weapon we chose, not the guidance of torment to sight