The Weight of the Mind

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Who said it was not right
To play the tune I heard
When the idea surpasses the conscience
And Kraft is nothing
But a tool for men
So I will make my own
In bits, in pieces
At last, maybe
It will be a story worth telling

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Let the mistakes of those before me
Not befall me

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Let the misgivings of the future

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Not cloud my thoughts
Let my will give essence to my being
Even though I’m just a sculptor
Eternally chipping away
Let my essence last eternally
Until I finally make the perfect one
The perfect Hero
He who is neither a Tool
Nor does he wield one.

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