As the fields that yield their Spring to Fall
We are quick to crawl and slow to walk,
And when beckoned on by life’s call,
We are slower still to leave our flock.

Perhaps it’s not our will or way
To keep ourselves the paths we pave,
But it’s our fate to never stay,
So forge or find a path to brave.

Or seek yourself in ruined lots,
Be they old or new it matters not.
For I have seen many a man
Be lost then found by his own hand.

And if the stars compel you so,
And your soul sings a fire song,
Then do not fear the fire’s glow,
You will be home before long…