The Pyle Inside

We tread on paths that twist and curve,
on trails that left and right can swerve,
Through dirt and mud we make our way,
but on we travel, night and day.
The weeds are sometimes overgrown,
the breaks are short, the walks are long,
But on we go, through rain and snow,
to learn a truth we do not know.
We tread on paths that never end,
on trails that left and right can bend,
Through climbs and falls we make our way,
but on we travel, anyway.
The place we head may be unknown,
and mostly we remain alone.
But on we go, through rain and snow,
to find where the wind begins to blow.
These paths we sometimes apprehend;
with peril these trails sometimes blend,
We make our way in moon and sun,
and always we must travel on.
The bird inside us may not sing,
our lips may peel, our eyes may sting,
But on we walk and limp and run,
on and on and on and on.