Here they are

long old roads

Destiny wears a mask
Of sorrow and mockery
The toothless gum of an old woman
Whose bite is ineffective.
The journey could belong
The distance maybe close

the cloud will always point to your home
as the wind will never visit your tomb alone
while traveling learn an old song
it could be the road for your tongue.

The yardstick to measure success
Is written only in your mind.
Walk, run or fly
This journey is yours alone

A bridge’s father had long met with the feet
with a gritty fate and time on its seat.
only a few teeth can chew
all of its dust when it is due.
Change ties a wrapper
and luck comes in from moments to tap her.

Bose x Ruddapoet