The Accountant

We pour Over them The diligent Accountant

Looking for The errors That must be corrected On our records

So often we Build walls — Shrines to our Failures

Rather than Raising temples To myriad Accomplishments

The roads That become maps Of where we've been Never the map we plan

For the road Is paved by the pebbles Of small decisions — Unclear Impressionism

Until you step back From the time spent Nose down Trodding onward

And look from A distance The many miles You have travelled.

It is easy for the road To be washed out by the river of misdirection

But for now the sun Still rises in the East And sets in the West And one foot must precede the other

We carry on Hand in Hand Together to see What this next day will bring.