When the second chance is really the fourth or fifth
And you aren’t ashamed, but you won’t admit
Lessons are learned as you go,
They don’t wait at the end of the road.
When you’ve lost the faith you thought was heaven-sent
Don’t make it all about trying to reinvent
The soul you traded in for a bag of dust
Or the heart you handed out for unbridled lust.
Don’t wait for salvation in the end,
There’s a little bit waiting ‘round every bend;
Our roads are long, they split and weave
And their length is simply relative
To the ones’ we walk aside or whose paths we track.
For the only map we can draw is one that looks back,
Our paths measured by who we’ve most loved.
May the longest be the one we’ve traveled with ourselves.
Sophisticating the Rudimentary 
What’d you think of that?