David E.

The Crossroads

On landscapes as broad as the mind’s eye,
Can be seen the paths of destiny
Over which those living wish they could fly,
Yet that is denied to all but those dead.
The living can only glimpse the past instead.
They can only reach for their future unknown,
For no future can ever be set in stone.
A young man stands at a crossing of paths,
With only the past as a guide,
Staring, transfixed by destiny’s gaping maw,
Watching as his world starts spinning away,
Pulling him along day after day,
As faint outlines of thoughts dance to and fro,
Grasping with eyes that beg for answers,
Yet are left with only the frail patchwork of guess.
For, as long as time exists, the paths will remain,
And those that walk them shall have to face the crossroads again.



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