A Poem

I wrote a poem and wanted to share it somewhere. It is kind of long. I hope you like it.


I walk down the trail
Looking for something.
What am I looking for?
I am not even sure.

I don’t walk. I stroll.
I move without direction.
I have a purpose, but no guidance.
I strive for something, but what is it?

On the trail, I stop.
Why should I follow a path?
It leads to somewhere,
But not the somewhere I want.

The question consumes my mind.
Cheshire cat, oh how well you knew what you said!
I remain on the sidewalk, frozen.
“Words of wisdom” run through my mind.

The purpose of life is a life of purpose.
Failure to plan is planning to fail.
Practice doesn’t make perfect; it makes permanent.
Time is of the essence.

Such common phrases,
But so haunting.
What am I to do?
I could just sit down and wait.

Wait for life to start.
Wait for someone.
Someone to complete me.
Or just someone to direct me.

Sitting implies submission.
Do I want to stop my travels?
The trail offers many adventures.
Magnificent views. Momentous insights.

The destination is not clear.
Following the path is tricky.
Past experiences are fallen branches,
Obstacles blocking the way.

The branches demand attention.
Entice me to probe.
Why did they fall?
What is to be done with them now?

I have many choices,
Each with unclear consequences.
If I stay frozen on the path,
No changes can occur.

Climbing over the branch
Results in dirty clothes.
Brambles cling to me,
Causing prolonged irritation.

I climb over one branch,
Continue on my journey,
Still not sure of the destination,
Plagued by the brambles.

I struggle to rid myself
Of the brambles.
My steps slow,
I stumble along the way.

Another traveler passes.
She helps me with the brambles.
For a time, we travel.
We talk of hopes and dreams.

For a moment, I have direction.
The other hiker helps me.
I know where I am going.
I look forward, barely flinching
At the branches on the path.

We come to a wider path.
We walk side by side.
The path widens further.
Unknowingly, our distance grows.

Before I know it,
She is gone,
Lost as the path widened,
Then diverged.

The path narrows.
I am alone again.
I lack direction.
Every bramble ensnares me.

A hiker passes.
He stops to help.
For a time we travel together.
Once again, my purpose is clear.

We meet another traveler.
She needs his help more than I do.
We three walk a widening path.
They drift away from me.

The path narrows again.
Directionless, I amble.
I struggle with lingering
Brambles from past branches.

Travelers drift in and out
Of my path.
At times, I see clearly
Where I am headed.

Other times, I see nothing.
I do not know my purpose
Or what I should learn.
I don’t know where to look.

The insights and views
Are lost on me.
Every branch and snag
Take away chances to learn.

I reach a crossroad.
Possibilities spread out before me.
Each path has a locked gate.
I have no keys.

I peak through one gate.
I pear into another.
Each gate holds opportunities.
I try to see what each one presents.

I wait, trying to decide.
I finally choose a gate
And am forced to wait
For the key held by someone else.

I try to look forward.
The path can be happy.
I strive to wait patiently.
The time for a key approaches.

The brambles still remain.
I am not irritated always,
But when least expected
The pain returns.

The gates are exciting but intimidating.
I still struggle with previous branches.
Hope of a clear path is
Clouded by fear of new branches.

Now I must just wait.
I have walked very far.
Help has come and gone.
Friends have been found and lost.

I stand at a great juncture.
Where I will be is unclear.
What I will do is foggy.
Hope of meeting someone is bleak.

Yet, I look toward light.
An unseen constant companion,
A friend when I have no one
Has been by my side.

The promise of comfort soothes me.
I look toward the gates with faith and hope.
No matter which gate I choose,
I will have help on the path.

I am not alone on the journey.
There are those that root for me.
I will meet other travelers.
We will learn from each other.

I look to future paths with happy anticipation.
I look at past branches without flinching.
I wait for the key.
I stand at the juncture.