You step out away from the fog,
And into the clearing ahead.
A Path.
The one you've been earnestly awaiting.
Almost searching for without hesitation, direction or guidance.
Glancing into the distance, your heart hits your stomach,
And your only thoughts are now reinforced.
"This," is going to be a journey: a struggle, a fight.
Instead of calculating miles, you decide to just shrug it off.
In fact you re almost looking forward to the walk,
Against aimless wonder within the foggy atmosphere behind you,
It's worth the few stones beneath your toes.
You meet a stranger on this path,
And he greets you like he knows your name.
He cups your hands in his,
And hands you all the answers you'll ever need.
But when he winks at you,
His smile turns a different course,
And you see behind those eyes,
Destruction, disaster, demolition, distrust.
He is gone before the words escape your lips,
Before you can ponder the acceptance of this offer.
In your hand now,
You hold a key.
You turn it over, and as the sun reflects upon it's surface,
You feel pleased, but your heart is cold, dissatisfied.
The truth burning a hole in your hand,
You shove the key in your pocket,
And proceed across the bridge.
With no one in sight,
The only battle you fight, is this one on your own.
You pull yourself further along still,
Your feet now in excruciating pain.
But you've been given the cup of slavation,
And the drink is an arm's length away.
Two doors stand in front.
One padlocked well,
The other meekley closed.
Remembering the key,
You pat your pockets down.
You can tell this door on the right,
Is the one that fits it tight,
But it's the one on your left,
That grabs you now.
Yet the numbers that open it,
You haven't a clue.
Closing your eyes,
You toss the key in a direction unknown.
Fearless that you'll change your mind,
You ponder the thought,
At "this," being the challange you possibly seek,
And that maybe,
You're not alone on this beaten path.