It is so very hard to gain the reigns
on disentangling the strings,
emotions and the senses use as chains
to captivate the soul and wrap it's wings.
Mundane demands make petty claims on time
and energy. True progress is quite slow.
Coupled with endless striving, men must climb
above the colorless rounds of daily woe,
and root a generation based on will,
fixed on clarity of the conscious brain.
One first must learn there's no free ride downhill,
each inch achieved, is purified through pain.
Out of the furnace we come, eyes blinking.
Glories unexplored, overflow our thinking.