Made in Heaven

My smarts, in all these short spans,
have worked itself to a flurry.
I have waited a long, long time,
readying my happiness in a hurry.
Far away, the chair awaits,
asking me to take a seat.
But alas, I am yet to find a way,
that stills me to make ends meet.
'Ahoy, this path! Take this one!'
it sounds, from this very, very far away.
So I pack my colours, and chimes,
and break into a run, just to stay.
This is how I break, when I reach,
finally reach, the stray path frayed.
Under the guise of all that appalls,
into stories I've been broken into and made.

Ah, the chair, awaiting to be seated,
I find, is holy – a destined fort.
This chair, painted in chimes and stories,
I find, is mine, made in a mission I'm yet to abort.