A heart to hold or soul to mold, be not the path of the righteous the way to heavens gate and haltered steps to heathens keep...
Spare me the wisdom of nature but grant me the knowledge of destiny's true path's labour.
Seek you not the adventure and fulfillment or is it that you fear where to thread should, I dread in your wake... The organ in your chest beats with vigor while you lounge in overthinkers stooped trigger.
Blinded guild be your quest to unfound rest.
Grace or glory may both be gory.
To show your oats or plant brilliant trees in a heart to hold or soul to mold, the guild of destiny's keep.