Feeding Imagination: Word.fed

Silence.

Finally, a moment, my own
Not one sound is built to last,
I blinked and change had grown.

Strength, I know you too well
Rotate the landscape's base.

You build me up, to break me down
A shift in space, a brand new place
Nail me on the ground
to make me appear in another face.

I burn a few red lights
As the path dictates my steps

I rest my case,
under each rock I pray to have carved

I stand in line to label the road
and dream my feet marked,
on the pavement, I wish, someday
"my way", would be called.