Four roads meet,
The map tells the car to turn right,
But the car across from them must turn left.
I am not in either of the vehicles.
I'm not sure how I've gotten here either.
Nor am I sure which road to take.
The map in my hand has grown worn
And makes it to where I cannot see.
My heart is the angel on my left shoulder
And my mind is the devil upon my right.
The heart, though silent, speaks to me
In a way that only I can understand.
But I can hardly hear that voice,
When the mind screams
At me in great volumes.
The passengers inside the vehicles
Pose as distraction, as each of them
Tells me a different direction.
One path is barren,
Filled with pain and sacrifice
While the other is paved in silver lining.
And the third is marked with the footsteps
From my past.
And I stand separating each of them.
Should I take the easy path,
I must ask myself if it will always be
The straight and narrow
The whole way through.
And should I take the barren path,
I fear that it will be constant.
So today I stand in the crossroads.
Tomorrow I may take one path,
And the next perhaps I will take the other.
But today, I pray that I at least take one step.