Life is the path my body chose,
when born back on the day
I entered this human time zone
and started to find my way.
Yet every night I practice death,
and every time I nap.
And every time I commit a sin
and fall in Satan's trap.
It's like walking up a mountain trail,
steeper steeper as I go
with the weight of my humanity
causing me to travel slow.
And when the sweet wind brushes by
kissing my skin with whispers sweet
I get a whiff of God's true promise
urging a change of path for my feet.
I change as if blind and tapping
a red tipped cane of love
and try so hard oh try to stay
the course so dearly paid by blood.
And failing this daily I tire
and once again drift away
to practice the nightly petit morte
until my final day.