Perfect Path
As I watch the pendulum of the wall clock
Continuously swinging back and forth
A sarcastic smile comes to my lips
To be or not to because of my frustration
From where I came and for what
And what is my ultimate destination
Not sure what to do next, I sit still in a chair
With both arms supporting the chin
Undecided, confused, absolutely unclear
Butterflies hop from one flower to another
Their tummies are full, but still not satisfied
Is not the same predicament facing most of us
Either somewhat less or magnified large
Our complete persona becomes a mirror image
Of what we wish, think, and act
No one can be our tour guide here
Only our consious can show the perfect path
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