Walls of thoughts cage social intent,
Repetition brings persistent pains.
Narrow minds overtalk those unlocked,
Melancholy's dull drone mellows mulling minds.

But, away from pencil-leaded ceilings and foot-lined floors,
Around others who think, believe, observe,
In this Socratic dream, realization finally hits,
Insecurity's a thing of fiction.

Life, an old worn sock,
From which strange toes joyfully hang and wiggle
in refreshing, almost spring air,
Because that's where they belong.

It is time to try,
Though unsure of direction,
To follow the salmon's path,
Help others swim.
In spite of themselves.