dare to walk

its only

when steps trod

that walks get etched,

carved across

in wilderness

of woods.

its alright

its alright
to flutter
like butterfly
to attempt

to fly

yet reach not

the sky

one wants

to see.

its alright

its alright
to flutter
like butterfly
to attempt

to fly

yet reach not

the sky

one wants

to see.

What point is there
to mourn  
love's labour lost 
or grieve in vain 
for eighteen in all 
change of season
gone, lost in quest 
of honest half
who lives to lead
path of love 
selfless virtue!