The cobble stone road swirls through the bounds of history,
walking calming down the beaten path,
exasperated by time,
what is time,
who’s seen what I see,
the pain
the sorrow,
hell.

In a blink of an eye
whisking itself killing everything in time.
We will all find are way to the same spot,
our time is short,
life is long,
you limit yourself to times wishes.

Not I
not the sheep herder,
nor the farmer,
living in the moment,
not faded by times wishes,
living how we choose and not what were limited to.

The old road corrodes with age,
due to be forgotten,
just like those who walk its path.