What shall I do with my time on this earth.
Given a long daunting path, not knowing
What history gave me at birth.
Will the road be paved by words.
Or will the woods and trees make cover for swords.
Will my breath be routed in my heart,
To speak a language only explained in art.
How do I know if the tune is fake,
Which arrow will pierce the truth,
and who points out what's at stake.
How will I choose how to be fruitful,
Which knowledge to breath a space in need,
so my conscious won't bleed.
What will I need to carry on this journey.
How many starts to stops.
Places to rest, time to be a servant at best.
Which clouds shall carry me away.
A constant look, a hurried step, the cloud whisks you away.
All the time thinking
was I pushed or rushed.