When neural pathways stream from point to point
Their stream creates the power of a mill
And when they come to scars, such scars anoint
The pathway as it tumbles down the hill
The hill is just a metaphoric mount
Dismounted, I survived to think more thought
The pathways I create will surely count
As if they stood for something cheap I bought
Did I buy life? I know I paid a bill
A bill I was presented at the door
A door that opens outward on this mill
And once again I learned what cash is for
Again I hear the wisdom flood my brain
It flows in neural pathways, mostly sane.
This entry was posted on Monday, May 27th, 2024 at 11:03 pm and is filed under Sonnets. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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