Like beauty and the will of morning and the still.
Brings notes upon the throne of the sanctities of time.
A harp of trepidation be, unknown to only you and me.
Will play its final song.
And without interpretation we all will sing along.
For peace yet unavoidable, and life simply exploitable.
Advantage of the strong is always there to strive.
The arms and hands of right and wrong,
Keeping will alive.