Remembering My Way Back

Was not very easy.

It seemed almost sort of…


Like sitting on a mossy covered log

In the middle of a emerald towers and

Colorful blooms.

A stick in hand

Be no mere stick,

For a spark lie within the hand.

Connected to the heart of home,

Which was never far away,

But sometimes we fall

Into spooky pits and

Wander in the fog of mind.

A flame stands proud

Atop the stick, as the hero

Steps forth into his destiny.

To step into the world

He wished to create,

By simply Remembering

His Way Back





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