These streets that I walk Are treacherous with every other step No compass in my hand to guide me I allow the light of the sky to illuminate my path There’s no straight and narrow to speak of Wishful thinking that’s been a forever desire I have the mental bruises that show the impatience of wait I have the physical pain in my feet from the many travels I’d rather have the moon than a simple candle Any wind can blow out this fire light it wants to give me The moon has a mind of its own and never loses its power So large it is, the sky holds it, and no need for me to do so I thank this moon from time to time Whenever I have a journey in the outdoors Its light can likely sear the brain, if it were up close Therefore, I don’t mind its distance, as long as it sees for me Copyright© Elliott Dean Avant