Reborn a Princess?

A Roller Coaster Wridden by the Mad Hatter Jason

With clear vantage he stands upon the mount,
atop the apex of his being, surveying things one can't count.
The valleys down below echo in chorus
telling grand stories with messages amorous
and tales of nearing epoch on his account.
Observantly, he sits in wait, ever curious
listening for the hints his future may recount.

With battlefield ballads of heart mind and soul,
intermixing melodies of each of his goals.
All well defined, he's in complete control
yet stagnant he waits, debating his role.
Two melodies at war with none to console
and a third sonorously resonating; amplifying the whole.

His empire is forming, of this he is sure,
yet he takes no claim 'til his aims be secure.
Seeking solace in heart with expression that's pure,
slows the acquisition of success for this entrepreneur.
All the while fulfilling potential could be the cure,
but should he be satisfied trailing money as his spoor
or ensure his pursuit is not drawn by this allure.

His potential laid before him, illusory confusion disbanded;
his castle's not built yet and so he must move forward.
Yet in timely fashion, significance of other tunes expanded
the melodious infusion becomes less obscure yet carries no reward.
Instead he listens to lonely tones, once again standing stranded.

Alas, music to his ears, the notes begin to harmonize.
Finally a path appears wherein a symphony might form,
in front of him doth his heart's song materialize
such radiantly burning melody with no care for the norm;
peering past words he doesn't intend to idealize
but rather knows full well that he seeks the perfect storm
if only the efforts of happiness would make her realize.

He observes as her journey takes the fashion like Ulalume,
veiled like a raven beguiling her sad fancy into smiling,
as she again unknowingly travels to her lost love's tomb
and he hopes that her off-putting words are of like styling.

Reinforcing stone walled heart with her soul's intense fire,
she's managed to postpone his last sought desire;
though she shields her cloaked heart, his thoughts do not tire
instead against her voiced motive, the challenge doth inspire.
He can't help but notice melodic lines from her luminous lyre;
the tonal pattern of a child's pure joy that elates the young sire
empowering him to withstand her psyche's blazing pyre.

Crazy love shrouds him as burnt landscape doth form
and when the dance gets hot he does not hide or mourn.
He simply waits wishing for the honor to see the phoenix reborn