So far along the patterned stretch
The path begins to fade away.
The weary eyes of traveler man,
That waste of time in gaze and scan,
Must focus now to find a way
Where end does not belong in wretch.

‘Twas boredom that had led him here,
This place on roads less traveled by.
His focus failed to see the signs,
Of fading patterned color lines,
And now it seems his ennui
Will leave him lost and full of fear.

He’ll focus now with tired eyes
To see which way the wander led.
And try his best to right his course,
Without the sight of starting source,
Or of a trail as Hansel’s bread,
In time to ward off his demise.

But truth is that he’s lost afore,
The moment that his mind did stray.
For focus never was his skill,
And letting mind be lost at will
Is the best way to keep at bay
The roads that lead to something more.