All roads given, and I took the shortest.
With each step lessened, one more second
Could be granted to my resting joy:
A contempt existence riskless to the pushing wind.

Only, when looking behind from the alley vantage,
Points can be seen where decisions deemed
Correct at the crossings, a straightforward
Mind decides to never turn.

This is a consequence only in hindsight is learned.
I've had much time to observe this as my road,
The shortest road, has been nearing it's end.
And as I lay myself upon the frigid brick,

I can no longer feel the wind.