The world bends us to its will: <br />The mountains defy trespass, <br />Except by man made road. <br /> <br />The rivers deny crossing, <br />Except by man made bridge. <br /> <br />As we're ever searching for the real, <br />We're stymied by the trail gone cold; <br />Worn down by the four winds tossing; <br />Halted by the impossible ridge. <br /> <br />Even when the world grows still, <br />It never will release its fearsome hold.<br /><br />Patti Masterman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-forge/
