The first of spring, I am loaded on a high, given the idea that I can fly.
I find a path that takes me away, towards a goal of justice that can not be swayed.
The ride is rough and rigid yet, a seemingly crazy version of chance, comes forth a surprise of wisdom had.
May the person find hope, or hell.
Their faith is shaken upon a well, will he fall or will he swell.
The truth be known he is here to vent, for lastly ain’t no one willing to be that spent.
True that –by me the –junuk(previous poetry name)