A passing moment given to dance, in figment's dream of mind
A faulted flailing that cuts to quick, leaving sorrow far behind
A longing gaze at nothing there, floating amid the clouds
But what could be stirs deepest seas and bids our ego bow.
A winding road to trod ahead, this weaving trail to blaze
A hunger pang for more than naught, we have to seek our name
A second glance at passing worlds, whom careless float on by
Yet we heed and compass leads, daring its way to try
A languished fare that tarries there, still and far behind
A patterned glaze that breeds malaise, and forces all to grind
A second hope that glitters most, somewhere beneath the sea
These waters pooled and given rule to play within our means.
A threefold braid this knotted way, creation all in kind
A resound therein this beckoned din, desire to call thine
A ceaseless stride and scent alive, tread onward as the hound
Never cease to chase the dream which in human heart abounds.
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