The songs, the songs.

Humans singing odes of joy,
taking ownership of this life.

Where are these persons?
And, where, this life?
The great minds hoping for the great feats.
Not knowing, perhaps, that hoping is willing,
willing but not ascertaining;
bending into shape to conform with desire.

The songs, the songs!  The songs we sing to ourselves.
The great echoes of desire.
Cease these songs for but a spell,
and hear the sounds of life lived.