The Hesitant

Those who wander the mazes of fate

linger perpetually in an abyss,

seeking a completion lost in itself.

One can never be that never was.

Should worth be counted in tokens and drinks,

or rather in legacies of grandeur?

Perhaps the great is not always so great,

unless put on display for recognition.

One cannot fill a cup with vitality,

but order does nothing for dreams,

to the one who takes broader steps

and does not dwell but to jump in the stream.

When at last the blankets are tucked,

the moon will rise over our homes.

But how can a spirit rise to the moon

if it is lost in a maze on the ground?