Again I feel a yearning.
This fire in my gut.
Again I feel a yearning,
to free myself from this bog.

It burns, like a wildfire.
Sending upwards plumes of smoke.
It shines, like raining starfire.
Pouring from the sky amongst the oaks.

My feet are heavy.
Anchored by fear and regret.
Heresy against the dogma.
That I should love myself above all else.

My dreams are magnetic.
Seeking to rejoin eachtime they shatter.
They know nothing of defeat or sorrow.
Living to them, is all that matters.

Marching to an invisible rhythm.
Listening to a tune, all of their own.
My ambition and drive move forward.
Into the pitiless night beyond.

Maybe they seek redemption.
Or to end it all devoured by the beast that prowls the dark.
Maybe, they have no other choice;
but to march, and march, and march...