And follows it, if the direction is wrong?
It’s easy to see, looking down from the sky,
The waste and complication, but easy too
To see how it works out down the line,
How things must keep moving
Though we pray it will stop.
Yet we fidget at lights like we might miss something.
We never do. All facets of the illusion
Reveal themselves in time, and in a blink of an eye,
Reveal themselves as untrue.
Direction implies a destination, where you were
Supposed to go rather than where you ended up.
The life on the map v. the one on the ground.
Not different in any of the real respects
Except one you take with you
And don’t leave a trace behind.
