I travel this imperfect path

Say it isn't so

That the winds are too in place

The embodiment of your stance

Is so insignificant

Is this where you are supposed to stand

Is this what is rightfully yours

The winds mock you

When they have never mocked you before

So if they are fixed at this place

And they are perfectly aligned

And if this is perfect

I scoff at perfect

I call its bluff

I wouldn't serve it

Even if it were enough

Enough to get by

Enough to get through

I travel this path

Uneven and jagged as it is

And I do it happily