As I walk in the valley of the shallows of depths
A due once kept the boney passage that's hallow
Reassured by the claims of what's to follow
As I take the first intrepid step
I feel the uncertainty that once crept up the spine
Reminiscent of a path that lay at hand
Too scared to want to see the signs and heed the decline
Still, one trundles on down the stony path
In search of one's own soul-
Half cursing the maker of the soul and the keeper
Of what's left to find
Embarking on a journey to paralyze, to decline
Scared to find the price and amount of time it is worth
We take the cerecloth and adjust our own girth
For what is fitted around one's crown
Seems to encumber the free will and the true meaning of the quest
For the seeker and one's self to be found
But the one to extrapolate and decipher the prism of the path
Is the finder of one's own map.

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