To see your bindings
Ask who knows you
Best of all; yourself

Take a seat and think
Name, and write
In the privacy of your room

What could be
Where you fail
And see that every day

Every action
Can weaken and strain those links
Or add to them

Yet our natural state
And inner destiny

Is with effort and many roads
Tending to those bindings

Every muffled groan
Grey-dull morning
And aching evening
Hear them squeak
Shave and scratch

Unmake them.

By J.W.H Hobbs

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