Here I sit, eager for the blessed sleep, yet the mind sunk in deep, behold the step I must leap. I hope for something new and to write is something to do, so I see what I must do, transcend the day’s loop and pursue the unheard thought only made true when I hit the written queue. My day today cannot fade for each moment is always made way for the next thought held at bay. The ideas hit me. From service above the seven seas. A rhythm held by a system programmed through a cycle made true by paying what’s due. Each moment, brought by an algorithm formed only by what your previous you can produce. My actions. A history built on a recording you. An unfound mystery. An unconscious development of each virtue, bound by an ever changing truth, you plant a seed, and by making it grow with fuel, you see a tree develop from a belief. The branches spread coming together to form life’s answers. We are met with peace when we see there’s always one that grants us the humble luxury of shade. Tonight I say a recursive sight between letters and thoughts will grant me a meaning beyond believing, and that’s I’m a perfect being for I always proclaim a perfect outcome for a perfect someone made by humble consumption