The rules will lead you to an end
this end it may not be your own
Who took the path that called you friend
the route itself was all that’s shown.
The prints you leave by foot or hand
don’t stake a claim but do suggest
Conforming earth’s collective land
to feed the rut that drained the rest.
With littered trails of crumbs in mind
the birds of whey will take to ground
If rhyme is all you seek to find
then dirty words can soon be found.
It’s best to wonder what comes next
Instead of _____________________.
The sand beneath will not bequeath
if ev’ry grain you can’t contain
The sounds above the skies beneath
upon their surface you remain.
How swift the clouds will sip you up
when faced with nought you choose to be
The tethers slither to disrupt
with slack enough that you feel free.
But where to be is not the Q
at poles a compass proves no guide
It’s what you see and if it’s you
a shell within that pulls the tide.
A conch that hears itself will sing
The lure of pearl a chest will bring.