Fractions of a Whole

I learned the ancient language of rhyme in my sleep. I yearned, my patience vanquished, but this time I'm going deep.

Rhymes surface in fractions, travel through external distractions, passing through metaphysical passages, entwined with the passion, to manifest into action. But expressing gets me stressed out and depressed 'cause nothing happens, so I set out on a quest to find my higher self and asked him...

Take a look at all these fractions, will they ever make a whole? If I took all these distractions, sucked them up into a hole, and let go of my reactions, could I ever take control? All these questions, too pure to answer, keep me guessing 'til I cure this cancer. Still I plead for a solution, as I bleed out this pollution of perception, I want divine intervention, not to mention, climbing in dimensions, to ascension, how benign is this convention? It's deception, but I'm inclined to find inception and I'll rest then, but I already learned this lesson:

I'm not tied to this existence, I applied so much resistance, and cried out for assistance, asked to die in any instant, or ride out in the distance, I wished it every chance I got, and I missed it, every glance that I forgot, but with persistence I'll advance until I rot, and then I'll rise, from these limits I despise, and I'll be free, but you will see it with my eyes, I guarantee, a promise I won't compromise, yes you will see, but until then I will devise a way to be, a way to coincide to a degree, and when my elements collide this time I will not flee, I will just step outside, I find I have the key.