by Cecilia Wynn

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I know that you're afraid 

Of paths that others made, 

But I just can't feel the same 

When your trail shines like morning rays. 

You light my wounded sun-stripped soul 

In surreal and sundry ways. 

And though the path you thoroughfare 

Runs like a scar across your back, 

And the ground you've cleared has piled up 

And tries to stop you in your tracks.

 You follow still, you're steady 

Making many match your pace. 

Even despondent drunken dreamers

Marvel at your metered race.

 Following with unswerving grit 

An idea that I want.

 It must be much more than an idea 

To make you lead without a thought.

*Picture not by me