It is to the wind goes the observer

The signs direct and guide
The evidence is direct
The obvious is clear
But the observer is blind

The motions are just
The march is automated
The steps are well versed
The rift is created

Hope is nothing
Desire is ignored
Need is questioned
The heart abhored

Finding the completion
The steps one has taken
The wish for something real
The hate machine awakened

The path is no more clear
The fog has settled in
Ignorance is bliss
There is no more fear