"Poemception"

Anon inside a winters night,

When peace had filled the air,

A lone man wandered through the road,

A task he seemed to bear.

So prevalent was his mode of think,

None other filled his mind.

But when he opened lip to speak,

He whispered this dismal rhyme:

"Love not, have not, much makes sense,

None but just a few, nerve to recompense,

That is captured here in essence:

'To what a great length of life,

To fulfill destiny?

To damn a sole to pain and strife,

Or elsewhat rest in peace.'

This much do assume the truth,

Much of fate will come to you,

Lest we realize must we do."

This message bounced inside his head,

A fortune of a tune.

But couldn't find the melody,

He lost it, thus assumed.

But eyes pried opened he stared at nought,

Focus on nothing at all.

Staring intently on visions of dreams,

He cast upon the wall.