Two ways to go on a seemingly identical path
Both serenading your sense of wonder with the billowy wind
That whispers and provokes you to stitch your footing into the cracks manifested into the ground you wish to walk upon
Energetic trees swallow your perception
Because the road tends to disappear on the horizon
Leaving the destination up to your own imagination
Which is hallow due to the crispy leaves crunching your intentions into ashes
So your blank mind and eager state is left to wander along a deceiving road
But instead of choosing a path
You glide across the yellow lines detaching each side from one another
With no intentions, no expectations, and no destination
You carry on, blind