Rude Awakening

The turn of tides, the twist of fates
Aligns our future to my soul.
Bare alleys down the nightly glades,
Purpose-stricken ghastly strides,
across the wailing lonely hills,
sintering forgotten dreams
and a heart burdened with rote,
and eyes perplexed in confluence
of mortal needs and godly goals,
fill gaps of my dreaming ears
and shake me up from sleep.