No rides in buses or planes count,
The travel isn’t even worth a recount,
The journey from the not forgotten past,
To life’s stage, today that I am cast.
Being here, thoughts all over splattered,
How I got here, has never mattered.
Pieces of life left behind enroute,
Amassed as well some of the soot.
Blended like the flour for the batter,
Beaten in with eggs and butter,
Churned together in the big bowl.
The cake in the end is worth the extol.
Life’s process is not dissimilar,
In the end, its weirdly similar,
Now I accept the fruit of my toils,
Later on, can I enjoy the spoils?