Back of Beyond

I wonder how many wrong turns I took before the momentum ran quietly out; before the stranding on the high and dry took place. I wonder how many signs I so mistook, to point my trajectory to wilderness and drought that parched my soul and torched my eye and weathered on my face. I wonder how many lives I misdirected when all they wanted was to understand, when all they wanted was to hitch along and coexist. I wonder how much love I rejected, with cold and illusory sleight of hand, how many things I got so wrong and all that I dismissed. And I wonder how long in the back of beyond must I walk and sit and muse and stare into the windows of the past and contemplate. And I wonder if ripples upon the pond will ever make it from here to there or like me their travel cease to last acquiescing unto fate.