Written Poetry by Marcellus Nealy

some say the walk is mighty long
about at least a hundred mile
some find it best to sing a song
or drift away in thought awhile
or reconcile in solitude
or brood the way without a smile

I know what waits at journey's end
been there since I was firstly born
don't have to look around the bend
to hear my name inside the horn
see morning rising with my mood
no feud in me to be forsworn

what I collect along the way
undistracted or distracted
I get from all the passing day
freely gotten not contracted
or subtracted from the accrued
pursued till love is extracted
then taken as my food