We all need to forget once and a while
The old roads that have led us to here
There is no grand scheme of things that
Haven’t been trampled by the many footsteps
Upon which the journey belong
There are no once worn-once gone soldiers of fortune
Forgotten because of the mysteries
That plague the little corners of the estate
There is no black sin that sits upon the foyer
Idly waiting with lazy eyes, slightly smirking
As if in a trance ready to spoil the story
No journey begins at the end of the line
For no line begins at the house of resting
There are no paths that lead you to misery
There are only details that strike their glare
So daringly sharp that elders wear sun-glasses
There are no people that expect what’s been left
Save the flyers that will not be guest
