Nahutz T’cheelahson B’soifon (End Rooted In Beginning)

Forking roads adjourned
Where the sharpest turned
Sharpest turns retrace
At a different pace
All that we have learned

Spooning the same food
Where meets mouth and mood
And mood cannot speak
Yet sate with a peek
Albeit while nude

Knifing through layers
Passed the die players
Dice player your role
When my bell will toll
I’ll say my prayers

Cupping my last cent
Must be last week’s rent
Week’s rent in my hand
But that is too bland
Must be heaven sent

Plating my heart gold
A move very bold
Very bold indeed
For now it will bleed
Henceforth plated mold

Bowling with ten-pound
You hear view or sound
Or sound is the deft
But we hear bereft
Just one piece of ground