The softest love
A field of bright red
Rubs my chest
Caressing the tight
Rejuvenating scars held
Leading this deepened root
Engulfed so no influence reaches me
Reaching my heart back
Into the return of life
Roads are traveled ambitiously
Until ends are sought
Spindles turn and suddenly
A spoke is seen to bend
Such is my owned path
In pacing the plotted trails
On and off this worldly map
The treasures of it's crevice
Bright sculpture of public eye
Like matter moving through god
I seem to be gone all together
The stepping stones have lead into a sea
Symbolizing my disappearance to be full
Enveloping the steps And leaving the path
To live through me, and so before my final dissolution
I leave her a final rendition
An accumulation of all my practice
Scratched into the shore with a single finger
A symbol that is squalor to the deserved collector
And insult to the well to do
For it is neither of good or bad
Nor taken from books of wise or depreciated
I pause and draw my last mark to say
That the path walks itself
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