There is this only way
I know to keep me off track.
To imbalance processes and structures,
To make tremble foundations,
To fly wingless even if heavier than air.

Often I seek other tracks
In the same grid,
In the same territory,
Same landmarks to guide me by.
But it's not as disturbing,
Different questions arise,
And, although it is an entangled web,
Every string pulls oddly.

It's the path, this only path
I can ride on it in the dark,
      [I've been hit sometimes, but it's OK]
I even forget it's sinuosity,
New buildings often change its face,
And the only way to recognize it
Is my weakened knees,
My shivering skin,
For I can feel the world falling apart.

This only way, only road, only path:
words, words, words.