We chose the path beneath our feet and soon,
began to walk. Beyond the fields from whence
we came, the houses where we ate and slept
content to keep on marching, stamping out
the fear that lurks inside our heaving chests
with knees and feet that creak and sway and eyes
that close against revealing light and sights
that should be kept under the swath of night.
We chose the path beneath our feet and soon
began to climb. Without a thought to wind
or rain or voices calling out the time.
As raspy breaths like thunder loudly roll
in tiny fragile chests, before silence
takes hold and strangles brewing storms
and leaves us once again in quiet thought
our failing limbs keep pacing slowly past
the relentless dead of night.
We chose the path beneath our feet
and walked into the night.