The Myriad
Before dawn’s early light, slumber won’t find me.
Hours spent dancing through the ruins of foreign lands pressing against time that I don’t own.
The only thing between me and the wind is my mind, and it don’t know the difference between a fortress and a fence.
Borrowed wings never go on sale in the hood and picket fences don’t matter when they should.
Weary eyes chase the dream that awakened Joseph and trace the footsteps left behind by the broken-hearted.
Why would a wounded soul call out in a wilderness that won’t listen?
Am I truly the master of my fate or just a victim of pomp and circumstances addicted to my name?