The Song of the Moon

Life seems to prepare the well-trodden road for me I as a good mental patient I throw boulders upon it so large To create obstacles worthy of medals for me, If I could overcome them. I live with grace While I crave the difficulty within every muscle fiber I fear the already lived, the prepared I want works out of my hands Earning my living by my bread. Hearing from below the earth The moon singing reading the notes on the stars.