Poet's Paradise (Dawn of Era of Poems)

 We tend to move when our impulses stay For that is a light, hence the way It's a road unknown to all but you loops are plenty but path a few A tunnel that ends and begins where running never stops and nobody wins A path you can choose but must fear For the green road needs some wear Somewhere around would temptations stay but the blood gushes where thorns you lay In haste or at ease sometime The fruit must be cared before ripe The journey chooses you and you the dream For we are weird, conscience our stream No dream is big or small It's you, your rise and your fall and a little muscle that makes you smile For every fruit and every mile