Walking This Path

Being present and walking this path,

I'm not sure I like the destination,

I'm confused with what kills a poet,

The death of words or just a busy life,

These precious minutes,

Make up for hours of stress,

I look back and find my peace,

The forever ideals I want to see,

I now know who I am and lead,

The body towards a place of rest,

In this cave of words I rest my mind,

Ever writing and dealing,

With what is my mind’s creative space,

All towards my destined place.