When a dog chases it’s tail,
Does it get bored after it catches it?
Or does it hang on tight,
Running circles through the night?

If I chase you again,
Will you continue to run?
Run away forever,
Some sick idea of fun?

And if I become as fast as light,
Will I be the dog that hangs on tight?
Or will I too get bored,
And leave your life fragmented and ignored?

Long ago where the White Oak grew,
Far beyond where the west wind blew,
In fresh spring air and ****** skies,
A young boy severed his emotional ties,
Ones that brought him only pain,
So he thought he would not stand to gain,
But so very little did I know back then,
My foundation never laid; it’s time to begin.