General dystopian disparities call for sleepless nights,
churning the mind fathoms what it comprehends,
witness to the illusion that perception paints.
A plan set in motion to dispel that which had taken form.
Motivation requires momentum or goals sit in dirt.
Steps to be taken, like a dancer leading the way.
Nothing cheap comes freely, yet every forward movement leaves cobblestones of gold.
Tread yea onwards, the path wont walk itself.
A year or a moment, choices we must make.
And with actions we weave our stories,
Take heed, you each hold the pen.
Destiny is unfolding in each step that you take.
Weaver, shaper, maker and un-doer of old.
Claim your title as only a creator can hold.
Life is like clay, molding and unfolding.
The stars too you create, its never too late…