I find myself walking down a path
That twists under industrial bridges
In fluorescent halls filled to to teeth
With monitors glazing numbers.
My feet long to stray from those wicked walls
Where they tramp silently in the quiet of libraries
And instead to take the wooded road
Which snakes under a harvest moon.
I weep for the path before me.
There is no joy in completing files
Or warbling songs to trapped birds
By a water cooler.
There is no accomplishment worth having
No check worth cashing
No quota worth meeting
That fills the stomach and lightens the heart.
Reading in the papers a story of a boy
Who dreamed a dream he kept to himself.
He saw the lane illuminated before him
And walked the trail alone.
I wish I had his courage.