The Weight of the Mind

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

Let the mistakes of those before me
Not befall me

Let the misgivings of the future

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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