Without a Rhyme
Faces of strangers appear in the mist of this fog,
Nothing changes upon this cracked sidewalk.
Wheels turn, gears lock, and fate find’s a way.
Destined to search,
No, these feet must not falter.
The edge awaits us all.
So hold onto that rope, let your calluses build,
Please don’t falter.
We’re never lost; so don’t hide when the thunder roars.
Then things change and the cycle is broken.