Paths Pointed West

Poetry Wednesdays1

I lay where the road keeps turning
holding fast to the task of learning
sometimes following the paths pointed west
where the blazing sun continues burning
strictly leaving behind all the rest
rolling over hills to find the next crest
Searching for the center of the mob
the people who might know the right test
looking within the eyes ready to sob
they understand the weight of their job
But their feeble hands are only yearning
for the light to finally find its nest
and the constant pulsing to stop its throb



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