I walk along this lonely road
Where other’s feet have trod before.
Bound as I am by th’ travelers code,
I dare not seek some newfound store
Of sight or smell or vision keen.
Condemning self to plod along,
Wondering e’er what could have been
Had I but spark to sing new songs
In olden rhyme, I’m counseled for
To search my bleeding heart for verse,
To find some light, some fiery score,
But, dry inside, my lines flow terse.
Then, as I stride along I see
A flash of white, what could it be?
Beneath a stone, trod o’er by men and mice,
There lies a jewel: a pearl of greatest price.
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