Paths

Wake up groggily, the sweat between
your callused, short fingers.

In this dense forest, with pathways unknown,
Block the light with your fingers, each a trail to roam.
Like mighty trees, our fingers stand tall,
Effortlessly controlling our triumphs and falls.

The Boxer he, the ring of fate he fights
Each finger curled up, and without any spite,
He must weave and he bobs like a dancer,
Avoiding their jabs and sways, searching for the answer.

Each knuckle a branch, each palm a canopy,
you must navigate life’s tumultuous sea.
So heed the call of the warrior’s decree!
Let your fingers be trees, your paths free.
For in the maze of destiny,
We make our own trails, incessantly.

Fixing

Need to make it more metrical! I like how it goes though.