Traverse the wilds of ambiguity,
Each shadow from the trees,
Spilling and spelling around you,
with the wind to listen,
To capture,
Their broken limbs.
The main road shows nothing,
Just beggars with papers to lend.
Fear and feel no need,
Just let the crick,
Which you know so well,
Fall in time with your hand,
Allow it to flow to natural miracles,
that lead; well, AH!
To hear and to there,
A giant worms hole,
Explore its depth,
The darkness beneath;
If we find it incorrigible,
Let us roll to the plains,
Where the wheat grass blows,
Tickling our souls.
If not there, then simple,
Follow the deer path further.
Till the speckled sky arrives,
To light the impossible reach,
The impossible only being a word.
Do not fret, still further,
We can find a waterfall.
There, we can bath in foamy hope.
I do not care where we stop,
Or how we get there,
As long as we avoid the main road.