Packed tightly beneath your feet
Thicker than a veil, softer than stone
Textured with intentional blemishes
Like the gunk of an unidentifiable viscosity
That keeps binder in check and words alive

No technical purpose your mind can register
But to keep idle hands idle and souls full of ache
No technical purpose but to make it feel more
Trampled by words, forming an empty
But impossibly full epitaph

You’ve never met, but they register like film
In your heart of no eyes, full of ceremonial
Growing pains, as you see just to spite
With the eyes of an eagle

Like a steed they rode through your labyrinthe
Discovering those things that never existed
You never allowed to exist
The wind blows away a tear of remorse
The centaur roars and closure is found