Takes the stride
It takes your weight
One print after the next
It makes no mistakes

You walk it to find the way
The way to clearing your name
Heavy breath and barren eyes
You speak the words to yourself
Rehearsing the lines

It’s your cross to bear
Because nobody else is there
To act out the forthcoming play
Still the road is neither forgiving
Nor condemning
It takes the weight

A son
A single one
A greater purpose
That cannot be declared

So the road understands
For many sons have walked it
And many more shall transpire
The same

Of how strange the condition of life is
The road doesn’t care
Of how frail and mischievous being is
The road doesn’t berate

The road back is persisting and weary
It’s spine torn by bushes and rosemary
It’s walks endless and more
The people who walk it
Unaware of its name
But still they walk
the same longing floor.