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