It Has No Name
It has no name
this chasm of abyssal depth,
where ineluctably diverge
what definitely will be
and all that might have been.
As moments pass,
mists of time
swirl and confuse,
and we grow
reticent to choose.
But not to choose
is to choose and thus
join the myriad footnotes,
worthy of no more
than simple glance.
Assuredly then,
destiny surpasses time
and those who made the fateful choice,
their soaring arc transcends
the ordinary and mundane.
And as for you and me,
where do our fortunes lie?
Secured nearby with lock and key?
Or well beyond both earth and sky?
Intentionally left blank for you.
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