
One day I turned away
And walked a path of my own making
I must sail sometimes against the wind
And anchor my burdens in harbors of hope
Heavy may be the footsteps that skip against the sand
Weighing down the clouds of expectation
And when I pass through the door that
Seemingly lead to no where
I will trust that grass
Does grow green on the other side
And bricks will mark the path that
Spins my destiny into the tide
And the path of my own making
Will land me in the port of heaven.

He doesn't sing just to make sound
Or write poetry only to have words to write down
There is more to his mind, his thinking complex
The issues involved are not from the text
He doesn't struggle just to lose
Nor shoulder his burdens to be made a fool
The defining spirit that cements his plans
Comes on the wisdom of men who ran
He doesn't hang his head just to rest
Or challenge his doubters as some sort of test
He strives to be the best he can be
To prove he has the right to be free
He does not ride on hopes and dreams
Or walk a path of make-believe
He will not yearn for what might be
But will hold steadfast to his reality
He doesn't build bridges just to lay bricks
Nor does he cut down trees for the logs and the sticks
He doesn't travel just to roam
He builds a house to have a home
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