WARNING!  METAPHORIC “THINKING  OUT” AHEAD!

Yes, the tools of the master can rebuild the house.

No, don’t bother waiting for some sublime thing.

No, I didn’t make the road by walking it.

Yes, leaves are grass, not pages in a book.

No, the worm does most definitely not forgive the plow.

Yes, the map is the territory.

No, dying is a not a wild night nor is it a new road.  Neither is it an undiscovered country.

No, all the world’s not a stage, only some of it is; and all the men and women are not actors with their exits and their entrances.

Yes, the sun rises in the west, but it is not a drop of burning gold that slides near and nearer to a world’s sill.

No, god no, I am not a bird in a narrow cage nor does a cage make me sing.

Yes, I have come to a fork in the road yet choosing one or the other makes no difference.

No, hope has no feathers, it does not perch anywhere.  All songs end.