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.