The Journey.
Two roads lay before me.
Stretching to either horizon.
Leading to places unknown yet foreseen.
Places I long to go.
To see for myself.
My heart yearns to walk one road.
But it will not suffer one such as me to pass.
The road my heart yearns for will soon cease to exist.
And only the lonely road will be left.
On this road I will remain solitary for a long time.
One far off day, chains will grow from my hands.
Then will I be joined by others.
And one aspect of my spirit will cease to be.
With hesitant steps I walk the road that is left to me.
With each forlorn step I recall roads I should have walked.
For this loneliness is like dying slowly and painfully.
And only too late will I recall the juncture, where a third road unnoticed was left unexplored for it would have left me unhappy.
But at least I would not have been alone.
Two roads lay before me.
Stretching to either horizon.
Leading to places unknown yet foreseen.
Places I long to go.
To see for myself.
My heart yearns to walk one road.
But it will not suffer one such as me to pass.
The road my heart yearns for will soon cease to exist.
And only the lonely road will be left.
On this road I will remain solitary for a long time.
One far off day, chains will grow from my hands.
Then will I be joined by others.
And one aspect of my spirit will cease to be.
With hesitant steps I walk the road that is left to me.
With each forlorn step I recall roads I should have walked.
For this loneliness is like dying slowly and painfully.
And only too late will I recall the juncture, where a third road unnoticed was left unexplored for it would have left me unhappy.
But at least I would not have been alone.
By: Jeron Barclay.
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