Remember that time
When it all seemed clear?
The path laid out
A straight shot into the sunset

Your bag was packed
Boots laced up tight
Slathered with sunscreen and bug spray

But after a few miles
Something happens

Maybe you see a storm in the distance
Roiling dark clouds
Cracks of thunder
And lightning that splits the air apart
And all you have
Is the light jacket you packed
In case it got chilly

Maybe, without warning,
The road splits apart into two, three, five
Different routes
No signs, no maps, no markers
And the fear of choosing wrong
Paralyzes you

Maybe you simply grow weary
Of walking
After hundreds of miles
Boots chafing
Water dwindling
Skin torn and blistering

Your backpack
Weighs you down
But you refuse
To leave it
Or even rest for a while
Even though
All that's left in it  
Are stones