A ditty

A tone is set and the night closed down.
Morning finds this stretching silence as a
calming before a great storm.
Clearly the night pressures the coldness
to echo deep despair throughout the wind.

A formed unit.
Even the forced lie spreads thick, that
even a hot sword becomes blunt.
Sawing only chaffs and the air clogs
the ever pressing, tightened lungs.

A source of clarity finds a mental
expansion to plant.
Only long enough to obey the
rules in a dying hope that love does
find roots within us all.

A timeless dream.
The aching spirit craves.
The ordained existence unfolds
to reveal levels of misunderstanding.
If only the mind had been clear
in the beginning.
Maybe, just maybe, the trails would
have been narrow but deserving.

This pursuit now, is not of vanity, but
of definition.
A classification of divided yet dedicated
fibers.
All that contain one true hope.
Not even a leap of faith but a truth, one,
that is rooted within every single cell.

Truth can be held in faith but do you
believe that this can be clear within your
core?

Good question, eh?
Meditation and pursue, I agree.