There are always those paths in front of you,
sometimes forked, sometimes parallel;
some of them tiny at the beginning opening out into a thicket of sunshine
and some that narrow down into walled fortresses.
Every single of those places have a sliver of light, a flower that blooms
fighting warriors abreast with swords awaiting to lash and
many a shores of the beaches where you can soak your mind.
You get to choose but one of those
beginnings so deceptive;
you get these eons to stand and stare
at the stars above you and the ground below,
the trees that hug each other and the colours that hang around.
Some smell of the petrichor, some like baked cookies.
A lot of them have sweet smelling flowers and
a handful that smell like tea.
You get to stand there and make up your mind
that wanders down all these roads once
and you weigh it in your head from what you see.
Sometimes you move out of instinct, some after you set
out after logic
whose crown falls tumbling down another avenue
that hold your emotions by its reins
or even the little lure of your favorite sound.
You tell yourself, I'm not going to regret this
and go down that adorned pathway
hoping you'll find a charming prince or the fruits of heaven
whilst your parallel mind notes the joys that lie
in the path that separates you by choice and helplessness.
You'll most often live there,
in that parallel path where another traveler dreams
of standing in your bright little blue shoes.
Photo credit :
Image from the internet : SteveRossman's blog.
I do not take any credit for the picture put up here.