In line.

Faith in kind,
Let's one know,
Not what one wants,
But what one knows

It's fleeting,
This array of kind,
The choice,
Not mine,
But yours

Taught to procede,
With Caution,
Instead of might,
I must choose,
That which has been,
and always was
Pre-ordained

Now do you understand,
Why I sustain,
To acknowledge,
My every whim?

Pity to those,
Who seek thier kind,
For henderance,
Is all they shall find.