Between the trees there lay a path
messy and strewn, overgrowth hid the tracks
it went deep into the forrest, twisting and spontaneous
I told the lady on the bus, but spoke mostly to her back
Midday moved to night moved to daybreak
I hear a voice drift from somewhere near
"You are free to own nothing"
it echoed. far off a clock was punched. I walked on, leaving behind a distant jeer
If you stand on your head, will the questions become answers?
If you oppress the oppressor, will you then control fate?
When faced with flashing truths, will you stare into light?
I don't need bullshit stories, I make my own bait
What do I know? Water boils on the stove and rain cakes mud to the edge of my new boots.
All I can say is sometimes I get lucky and follow trails I've never seen wearing a hat I found the other day with a note saying, "Take me if you need it."