Yet, why should I step on this path, as well travelled as it's been?
Conforming within my rebellious stance, the timeline eludes me.
My actions, as random as they may seem, are of the doomed and the broken.
I've been granted full access, but will I reach my destination?
Only with my eyes, my hands, my mind, can I really touch your soul.
A passing breeze, the caress of the willow's leaves on your cheek.
When I get home, the one at the end of the path, far from the maddening crowd, all this will have turned to dust.
*post title inspired by Franky