Even it's far as it is.

My hand grasps the upcoming tomorow, As if taking a hold of my exiled sorrow The reflecting flowing waters within me a hope has been instilled Gracefully moving through the mounded rocks of the deprived My eyes follows it's passing comet into the void Hence why the doubt even if it's soiled? The footstep movements continuing despite the hollowed platforms One move, shall fall into the pit, glimmering light shall forms A reach to the unknown at the beyond lands Melancholic realism of the hard demands These feeble courage, give even more of the desire to grasp it's weakness A simple strength that drives the twisted into shambles Simple wisdom of tomorrow will give you the will to rely into something common Non comforting, untrustworthy, but even it is, the one you hold firmly shall give more axiom The long reach of the desiring hands as its on motions Within a close grasp of the unmistakable emotions But in the end the dream might be far even the inspiring drive into the mystical nights And the close grasp of importance, acceptance a steward shall lean on into the solace of warmth lights