Determination and Grit

I slipped on a teardrop and landed upright, With no tigers or werewolves to scare me, In the long silent night so salient and tight, Where there was no hunger and travesty. Desiderata mounted as a goat passions one, Front legs up, leaning upon his spritely girl; Fuel of life, oh twig of gentleness unsprung, Never do you appear contingent on a twirl. Winds howled on and on under supervision, It seemed as if they were tall and even valid; Rains hit hard my fragile frame of collision, For nothing and nonchalance did they pallid. Hiding my face with a wooden, olive scarf, And umbrella to enhance my laugh stout, I braced the chill that bade me ill and dwarf, To retake the lost love that i could not gout. Vigour of kings, my heart leapt for plenty, Directivity vitalised my lionising soft breath, Towards my rock of goodness, my morality, And I landed stealthily in my own free seth.