I shall write, through the night.

It’s the eve of a choice,
That is the essence of my voice,
And i’m yet to plan a single thing,
Failure, will likely sting.
So i took a walk,
and gave myself a talk,
Along a sandy shore.
The waves ebbed, a steady flow,
Never knowing,
Where to go,
The sand poured freely down
Between my fingers,
No plan lingered.
The sun reached me,
Through soft white clouds,
And the deepest shade,
Always finding a way.
I heard
There in my head,
What ever you want
you always get,
The choice is made,
I am not afraid.
If i put my mind to it,
It will be mine,
It always is.
S, i’ll not plan the story,
It could be gory,
But, it’s what i want,
So it’s what i’ll have.