THE COLLECTOR

Run like the wind, move like a banshee, power and propulsion

For naught is those who stand still and do not venture

Beyond the backyard, the coyotes call out in howls of explosion

They guard the realm where Icarus at sunrise centered.

After the night comes the day, it is said that nothing stays the same

If you stay as you are, they you lose out to those

who dare to go forward, find a way, mark their names

While you idle and cool, they are chosen to move.

One foot in front of another, one toe dipped in the water,

One heart bleeding for another, one mind making way undercover,

Multiplying into two, four eight, a higher new number,

Where you once were before, you are now a collector.

You must go it alone, no one tells you the way,

No one sits on your throne and leaves no room to obey

It is only by choice that we must make it pay, for without

the resolve, there is only slow pain.

But where's the reserve, the energy burning and yearning

for a rudder to guide us, in place we are turning

We are moving along on a river of calm, but inside

there is turbulence, a cascade before dawn.


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