Some day soon I will take the high road 
The blue sky will be my cover 
Ripped and torn green valleys below
Filled with whitethorn and birdsong

I can see those below in daily toil
Follow the path, neither left nor right
Walking straight into the far horizon
In thin air, in view of the waiting life

Living in promises and the past denied
Brought here seeking to meet the sky
Leaving their life behind in the past
Within the net they have always cast

Stoic Poetry