Take the folded map, press its coffee stained corners and tuck it to your bag. Trace the faded hue of colored lines Circle every country and every island you wish
Fall in love with wisps and paths See how it directs, it will tell you where to go Hold its hand and dance in the dark Tell your deepest darkest secrets And listen to its soft quiet thrum
But I beg of you not to throw it away It is paper, weak and soft Just as my aching heart
It will not warn you Of the trekking hours of silent traffic Or rough bumpy roads And most importantly, booming storms that will drum against your car window
Follow the map and skip against its chosen path Because the journey filled with cracks and gaps Can be better than the perfect destiny's trap
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