Where?

A life given for what no longer lives 

looked up on high and made a wish

miles walked with the feeling of nigh

always there, meandering by my side 

feeling like a child asking for bread, but why,

do my palms overflow with rye?

So much potential 

no intellectual

faith perpetual

aim, eventual.

Accepted freedom.

I'm my own because I'm alone 

a hermit grows to a testosterone crone

this, an absolute like lying prone.

For years been fighting this fate

but I can't give into the bait

for so long I hated this trait 

but now the destiny, I cannot wait

guess thats the difference between 

faith in a lonesome state 

and being blindly led to a church in dire straits.