We choose a step, a cadence, a pattern
we may distinguish as our own,
yet we always have knowledge,
of our predecessor, our previous walk.
When someone is borne of ambition
their ideals, point of reference
seems rather fascinating to the observer,
so magical is idyllic inspiration.
We have options we often share
with our neighbors next door,
without ever having to interact
or face the music of our fear.
We wave while passing by on a walk,
having little idea of what’s on their mind,
keeping silent our own frame of …
quite frankly we probably don’t care.
Tonight while staring at my favorite wall,
I could see through the haze a world,
furniture looks nice, a fireplace glows
we could not have imagined a life so grand.
Yet the wall continues to hinder my eyes
when inside my body will churn, misguide
my motives to remain a sedentary
human example of groomed woodwork.
When walking someone said choose a path.
When walking someone suggested our path.
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