The sand pools and flows
dripping, but not as liquid
through the hourglass.

You've made the choice. It's too late now to turn from the Mortal Path.
Through black glass, red spots, and jackals, it stretches. The Mortal Path.

You'll find more than velvet drops and curtained monsters, down this road.
There's goats, and jokes, and Gary gems, scattered down the Mortal Path.

You might need to chug some blood to make it through the sandy caves.
Between the ghosts and demons, you'll need it on the Mortal Path.

Don't forget your trusty teifling- remember he's a lizard?
He'll cater your travels with crepes as you walk the Mortal Path.

And you'll have Taro being... Taro, with new voices everyday,
toot-toot pipes, and birthday parties to spice up the Mortal Path.

Ms. Nerium too, with sewing and sneaking skills tried and true.
Who knew a seamstress could do so well along the Mortal Path?

So too comes Natalia with keen mind, runekeeper's eyes and
fiery blade. Forces to be reckoned with on the Mortal Path.

It's fantastic, terrifying, and also hilarious.
So come fangirl with me. I'll be walking down the Mortal Path.

-------------------------------------------

This poem is all about one of my favorite podcasts, The Mortal Path. Here's a link to their epicness that you should check out! https://themortalpath.com/

Just look behind you.
For just a second. There might
be a cat waiting.

The galvanized flesh danced, shocked into
movements that no longer fit its
bloodless, empty-eyed body.
But no matter the
voltage used, no new
life presented
itself in
the dead
​flesh.

Do keep up my dear.
You're the one who wished to learn
​all there was to know.

Endless, sleepless nights
drag out the wide-eyed minutes.
They're far too quiet.

Who'd ever
want to be
​a hero?

My world's fine
and peaceful
just like this.

I don't need
that pressure
in my life!

Caught in a new breeze
stronger than old dragon wings,
I soar far away.

It's a tricky thing, walking a world
where it's almost an even split
between those who believe in
your very existence,
and the true skeptics.
They're willing to tear
apart their world
to prove they're
in the
​right.

I found you waiting
draped in those long dead roses
eyes bright as always.