Smooth cuts through chaos,
forming gridlines and namesakes.
From prompts to cross,
to doorways to heartache.

The string to a beaded necklace,
the steps to a staircase.
How metaphorically endless,
These retraceable paths, to never efface

Imbibed with life during the day
In the night, melancholic and foreign.
As a journey, a giant clique
With direction charted or an illusion

Hence roads untaken and paths in wilderness
are lifes' best-used metaphor
For these lines center us in a vastness 
uniting souls without choice, evermore

When once subconscious turns become an active thought 
and memories, as if in sediment, return 
I'll look for still frames I'd never have sought
with painted franticness, easy to discern

From warm, humble pebble to moss-bordered stone
Made both for carry and as a path to roam
Molds a path into a story, with moments sewn
Making every road taken someone's road home.

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