I’m afraid of walking down this road.
Terrified that one day I will not be able to go back and smell the flowers.
That all of the beautiful scenes of my youth will have passed.
And that I somehow did not designate enough time,
To hold them close, to see them clear, and somehow make them truly last.
I’m fearful of roads, because of that.
And I fear how quickly underneath my feet they seem to pass.
Created by these human hands, designated by men, and traveled by kings.
The fear of walking down such roads too quickly,
Is most definitely a haunting thing.