Of said

the patience has been given as obedience, not virtue

one will receive what one despises, at their will

missing the cue, will wait in line, forever

until the doomsday reveals itself, rigged as a roll of dice

it's either one, the other or the hoped

confined in its entrapment, from the one to six and in between

aspire to the seven or infinite, I tumble the whisper while I roll

the squares hit the wall, revealing what I knew

it's seven, but of two

the dream or hope, the wait of infinite