mesmerized by dawn,
instinct paints a passage.
folley reveals a facet,
entranced by ego - or is it passion?
like a fly to the light,
grab your tools and say the line.
tempted by the next dim spark, are we drifting or are we guided?
if perhaps you catch a draft, your heights will pierce the clouds.
yet all it takes is an emissive speck, inviting our descent.
it’s often said with one’s misstep, a venture into paths unknown.
a guiding light may clear the haze, nurturing our inner glow.