Tread

I will walk on pebbled roads,
feel with each aching step,
the jag and point of each stone.
Those rocks will pierce my souls,
blood will drip on each grain
I step over.
The masonry of the path I tread,
shows itself
in my gait.
The stonework
of a million broken, calloused hands
reflect
in the light touch of my step.
The earth and ore,
the minerals and crags,
the boulders and jewels,
they shall all
be the metal
of my heart,
of my mind.
Those cobblestones
will lead
to land of milk and honey,
where that roads is
lined with
rosemary and bay.
It is in that land
where I shall finally
rest my weary feet.