The one traveled, far too often in a rush,
from point to point,
a straight line, north to south.
For some, to the finish, is a race.
For some of us that prefere a more leisurely pace,
that take every square inch
of the road, very deliberately,
absorbing the scenery with all five senses.
Taking the curves slowly
rounding each skillfully,
feeling each projection, to our core.
To slowly climb the mountainous terrain,
finding pure pleasure in the ascent itself.
Only to descend once upon the other side
then onto the next height with infatuation.
Then traveling on down across the searing plains,
not devoid of their own hidden treasures,l
to a divergence and a choice.
Right or left?
Ultimately, both lead to the same locale,
on down the road.
The finish line, the ultimate destination,
is painstakingly and luxuriously reached
and treated as a rare delicacy
only to be devoured by multiplicity.