This path is imperfect
Cracks along the pavement,
There are downed trees -
Whose roots reach and cry for life
Graceful strides still give way
As obstacles startle into a free fall
And fall I have, but I’ve risen
Too many times to count,
Excised upon the scars seen and hidden,
But scars remind us that healing conquers wounds
And I’ll never be vanquished by lesser demons.
The path is arduous, long.
Each step forward is a gladiator march
Gauntlet of all the world can throw
In an arena meant for one,
Strength often fails the stalwart
I’ve fallen to a knee more than once,
Parched from a dehydrated atmosphere,
Suffocated from toxic energy,
Left in a heap of lost lives,
But I always keep an extra to play this game.
The path is never-ending
A winding labyrinth,
A garden maze in midsummer bloom
While Autumnal air carries death in potpourri depth
The fork coalesces here at the confluence
A Liminal divide, a decision prescribed
Will I tow the line, onward into the familiar
Or step into the unknown, where the fog betrays space
An endless haze in the great dark expanse -
A shallow sigh, and a reprise of the role
Soldier on, into the great unknown
Tomorrow the path will bend to me.
