On My Own Path

Slips never mattered, when I crawled from hands and knees, came tiny falls sometimes face first, into a wall kissed all better, lil child don’t bawl on my own path, hard to recall Following on, where footsteps go across blown sands, atop fresh snow from grasses green, to highlands low a life’s journey, comes fast and slow on my own path, unsure I know Heard about God, the Devil too I tempted fate, pushing on through at times blinded, by my own view took dark shortcuts, found the taboo on my own path, just not so true Wherever I stepped, fit or lame high as a kite, lowly with shame way off target, taking great aim finding myself, throwing the game on my own path, alone to blame what comes next, is anyone’s guess keep tripping up, repent this mess bear my sins, yet never confess die whilst I sleep, partial success on my own path, forks wilderness By David Kavanagh