Let it be nothing more than a spirit engulfed in oblivion to truly honor the presence of sparks,
Inflamed by a burning life, brightening the darks.
Let this spirit embark on civil pursuits toward serendipity,
Renouncing the surrounding endless darkness,
Let not this spirit become heartless, rather slip into repose,
Prose, bows, a meaning to movement that no one knows,
Conquest the path the world rescinds that God shows,
Watch discord amongst the plenty as hatred grows,
Let this spirit stand beside itself correcting, directing its goals.
A merry Monday…bleeding into the stream of breath, clogging my lounges with horrible beginnings,
Let this spirit dance about the bad and loathe not for the good,
With exemplary resistance and ambition to remain content,
This spirit sleeps deeply within the confines of my heart where it mixes with my soul,
It includes the mind the organize my goals my souls state to make.
A broken heart, a calm spirit, a shattered mind,
The token heart will allow no one near it for an see extended matter of time,
It fears the presence of humanity,
Gorging with disgust and reeking of vanity.
Let this spirit become mine.