To have the means but not the will.
Are you not destined to be still?
To analyze all you see.
To have it figured to a tee.
But to wait for its fruition.
Without desire or ambition . . .
To have the will but not the means.
Is that a world of in betweens?
Ever leap into the void.
With only half of you deployed.
In lacking means, lacking skill.
You often fail to be fulfilled . . .
What a riddle, what a crime,
To live a never-ending rhyme.
A rhyme with such a pleasant sound.
And though you move, you’re still bound.
Here you found a limitation.
It’s a call, an inspiration.
To affix your iron will.
Where a conundrum can be killed.
Where a cycle can be shattered.
Up to now it didn’t matter.
But as your loved ones go away.
You’re at a loss at what to say.
They go away because you’re flawed.
Is that not something to applaud?
Not their leaving, that is sad.
But the longing for what you had.
The things you want to have again.
Suddenly it matters then.
And with your flaws on your mind.
And with your will now well-defined.
You have found a certain aim.
The song that plays is not the same.
This tuning of your rhyme so fine,
With the demonic and divine.
Despite your bounds, you do fulfill.
With both the means and the will.
© 2022 TheRememberings Ltd.