Striving Board
Something looming in the way.
What it is, it’s hard to say.
Shapes and shadows permeate
the stepping stones of time
An easy skip, a few hard hops
These old bones can’t help but pop
Every leap, a fire trial
Burnt blisters down my spine
Still, I bound. Is there a choice?
My will, it screams without a voice
Past footing crumbles, no reset
On fortune’s feast we dine
And so, we climb, and pray to save
dead smiles of the staircase slave
A hopeful dive into decay
The fate of yours
and mine
.
.
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