Which Door To Open

The corridors of life are rarely straight: Not only do they bend and twist and veer, We find the way ahead becomes unclear, Soon blocked by doors -- each door, a different fate. We’d like to take our time, to contemplate, But time will press, and each will urge, “Come here, I lead to bliss. Take me, and have no fear!” How can we know which course to navigate? Still in the end we’re forced to make a choice, Interring almost-futures in the past, And pick one door to open, if we dare. We hope the door we choose makes us rejoice, But this is a decision which will last: Whatever ends it leads to, we must bear. December 23, 2019 "Open Me First" Italian Sonnet Contest