The Path
I scramble on, the briars grabbing, ripping.
tearing at my flesh and clothes.
Stumbling as I break free
and find the path that weaves
between tall dark forbidding trees.
A feeling, a need, a force drives me on.
I resist, to no avail, my legs move like automatons,
One step followed by another, drawing me,
Drawing me ever deeper into the never ending gloom
Silent pines that crowd the path move apart
as I reach a still black lake. Here there is starlight
enough to see a cottage at the other side and to show
that the path encircles the lake and ends at it’s door
Despite the need to journey on, I stagger to a halt
and stare hungrily at the boat in front of me.
It is pulled up on the rocky shore
and it would be oh so easy to launch
and row to the other side.
I sigh with longing, yet turn aside
somehow knowing that I must follow
the longer, harder path.
