The path through life
is rarely paved

For some, it may be,
straightforward or winding,
but clear to see

For others, less clear,
like stalking nature trails,
following tracks

For others still,
horizons stretched both ways,
fate theirs to choose

For me, I feel,
woods set with heavy fog,
yet open, still

However it looks,
we follow on our paths,
mostly forward

Sometimes they cross,
leading us toward each other,
or away again

The path through life
eventually ends

Counted in miles,
in years or in crossings,
in hills climbed

But in counting,
careful not to forget
to enjoy the walk