Southern Loop

The arrow I see every day Pointing me along my way As I walk and sing and pray North to fire’s Ice temptation For as I think of little good Wondering if I could, I should Thinking still of little nice Taking chances with weighted dice Moving forward once, yet backwards twice Towards ill made joy and elation Immature in action, voice, and pencil Run on logs and so much kindle As innocent leaves pay ultimate price Just fly to fall and end the play Amidst the concentration The truth is lost in tickle But somehow left ok As minerals of Ice decay In truthful concentration