A rift tears through minds:
All sentience is knowledge of mortality;
Imagination is knowledge of infinity.
Adrift, fearing no blind,
You will not plan for the end.
You sift through your find.
A lenience is prowling for sordid child's play:
It has been faking the knowledge of divinity.
To lift spirits by spines,
You will not plan for the end.
When you know that you do not have enough time
To do all you are capable of,
While knowing you are capable of more than you can comprehend,
You truth-fill your far escapable love,
You will not plan for the end.
The finite forced to infinite hope...
Success is a planned end.
Designed blight coursing permanent slope...
Failure is a denied end.
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