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she comes in the night with frivolous fortune
granted kindly by her random nature
as I surmise her intentions
and though I consider myself lucky
I am not dining on opulence
while all that is gilded is no more
nothing more than the balance of death
and the inevitable yet guided creation
I am honored by the experience
with the hunger to understand
rather than to be bound by ignorance
restrained by hopes and speculation
harbored within my guileless mind
while she knows all my weakness
where is my day
will she be there
since prospect or precarious advances
seem trite and contrived
yet it is only this way
that I should procure what I need
the integral heart fixed in my lap
this is not what I work for however
and so I ask
when is my time
for the substantiation of my efforts
would I create my own reward
the masterstroke of my commitment
my days by my determinations
mine all mine
because she is too inconstant
for my faith