This raging inferno has been condemned to death.
The wild burning distances itself into a foggy haze.
A lackluster intensity is now drawing breath.
I trade patience, a new virtue, for clouded gaze.
No more doeth my heart weigh heavy,
and my purpose begins drawing near.
We no longer fear the cracking of a mental levy,
but await the mind to clear.
With sturdier ground for footsteps,
we now run instead of pace.
The situation no longer feels dire,
and love has taken its needed place.
So, a lifetime of fog has been traded for
a once tortured state being.
Optimism, however, is keeping score.
I will not die without succeeding.