Roads

I walk along windy roads,
that float without end or beginning,
Shifting across the sands of time,
extending beyond the farthest reaches of sight.

Ceaselessly, the terrain shifts under me,
blanketed by the clear darkness of night,
or the golden fleece of morning light,
speckled with frothy oceans and frozen lakes.

Wispy in its form, invisible to my eyes,
uncertainty the only certainty of what lies,
beyond the misted veils drifting over hills and vales,
silver cloaking destinations obscured.

Those airy roads weaving through heavens,
twisting paths high above the dry earth,
liquid mercury shining impossible to make solid,
with the warmth flowing from human hands and hearts.

Lofty goals and accompanying woes,
line the oft trodden path in the sky,
streaked with a rosy palette of dreams
in the first glimmer of sunrise,