The road not ending is growing wider.
Spreading all the way down and up again.
Hot shovel digging and soaring lighter.
Walking the straight line beginning amend.
Each moment new and keep myself steady.
No time elapsing and hold my heart true.
The light not too bright; dark never ready.
Nor to warm or too cold; middle ensues.
Not craving the escape of elixirs,
or overindulge a ravenous girth,
nor snatch symbols of sensual fixers.
This road traveling is all that is worth.
No hunting the material abound.
Hands touching the sky, toes grasping the ground.
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