Four on the Dot

No negotiation,
The body revolts,
The mind wavers,
The will persists.

Discipline, the architect of becoming.

Each choice a pillar laid.
Each refusal a stone erected.
Each moment of resistance a beam raised
In the temple I am becoming.

The soft call this suffering.
The settled call this madness.

They pray for ease,
I pray through action.
They seek peace in stillness,
I find god in the friction.

To master the hour is to honor the day.
To master the day is to hone the life.
To master the life is to earn the breath.

Four on the Dot.
The world still soft,
I wage conquest on comfort.

This is love.
Just not the kind they recognize.