good in all visages
the wastrel wanders a road
to his, the poet sings along his ,
rich men have a road to them.

The industrious a well trodden path
worn by every man wishing.  To every man a path
which to him is given, and where he must tread,
or run or crawl or burrow into.

All this meaningless walking, or very heartfelt foot after foot trod
a meaning has. For the earth spinning and each new day's sunrise
becomes again each of our quests, whatever they are wherever they lead.

All lead to the same door.