Is it them or is it me
perhaps its parts of each
perhaps there’s something we need to find
to finally be at peace
Shoulder it like Atlas does
but there are no maps for us
only tracks that lead to trap or bust
paths that wither then retract from us
From dust to dust, we travel between eternities
so you must excuse me for burning trees.
To grow, you must be consistent
to fly, you must be persistent
against gravity’s resistance
like the haters’ insistence
that you will fail consistently.