Change Is Nature

Life has been trailed by legs many: White, light, fat, dark, as can be imagined Leaving stale prints that ploughs a path. Path new legs feel obliged to pass. These paths differ with colour, roof and sound Which many ply without caring, why? Safe it feels always moving with the crowd But it’s sad to be dud after a long ride. People are scared of paths without prints Since in the head only can it be seen. Paving a new way always seem strange But it would make nature create a chain