P erched between choices, I linger in the gray,
E very whisper of possibility tugging both ways.
R isk sits heavy, yet comfort hums its quiet song,
H oping one path proves right, fearing both could be wrong.
A ll days I balance fear with longing, want with need,
P recious moments slipping while I hesitate to lead.
S tep forward at last — though trembles chase the will to proceed.
LABYRINTHINE PATHS
“You have no need to travel anywhere—journey within yourself. Enter a mine of rubies and bathe in the splendor of your own light.” Rumi
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I walk softly into the labyrinth,
knowing not what I will find.
Cautiously, I journey within.
Through labyrinthine paths I meander
seeking answers.
Expectantly, I journey within.
Time unfolds like an origami crane,
‘art of being’ stitched to its wings.
Silently I journey within.
I take apart this paper sculpture
each fold a lesson in being.
Optimistically, I journey within.
I look for truth on the crumpled paper,
the complex duality of my existence.
Scrupulously, I journey within.
My heart is a labyrinth,
its chambers filled with longing.
Joyfully, I journey within.
I emerge, transformed, quietly reassured.
The journey within is the journey home.
its whimper sounds like a whisper, it slips as it slithers away
the loud fear it left on my mind still spins my spine
i run, forgetting my heart is still hanging in my mouth~
it pounds like a tornado blowing through my veins
the ricochets of its anger shudder even my tiniest nerves
our nights and days will never cross paths again.
Two paths diverged into the woods,
some choose the easier path.
I followed my heart and chose to go straight.
It was a treacherous path and made me the best I could be.
I’m glad I chose the harder way,
It was the right choice for me.
I hope that you will chose as well,
Blazing a trail only you can travail.
Whichever pathway you decide to choose,
They’ll always be lessons and lots of clues.
On every pathway, lessons will exist,
Finding truth will require that you persist.
Walking a path, does not learning assure.
Takes more than presence, learning to secure.
From your doubt you ask, “why aren’t I learning?”
Lacking desire, the internal burning.
In the present, let the path do its part.
Clear your mind, listen, and follow your heart.
The answers you’re seeking come from inside,
Consider each option then you decide.
Lessons will surely come as you travel,
Allowing the complex to unravel.
Take the complex and make it simplistic,
Lessons learned will seem realistic.
Flowery paths wildly intersect rich, late summer;
While beautiful flute music plays in green trees,
Amidst song so rife, without drumrolls of thunder.
In butterscotch ease, drift humming, honeybees.
While beautiful flute music plays in green trees;
The exotic blooms send pleasant fumes, far away.
In butterscotch ease, drift humming, honeybees;
With huge, tossed hibiscuses, in crimson disarray.
The exotic blooms send pleasant fumes, far away,
Their dazzling colors, the world's latest sensation,
With huge, tossed hibiscuses, in crimson disarray.
The summer blossoms love every color of creation!
Their dazzling colors, the world's latest sensation,
Amidst song so rife, without drumrolls of thunder,
The summer blossoms love every color of creation!
Flowery paths wildly intersect rich, late summer.
In the garden where laughter used to grow,
We shared our secrets, watching time flow.
Now paths diverge, and stories unwind,
Friends who were once close, now hard to find.
Seasons change, and so do we,
Chasing dreams, setting spirits free.
Yet in the quiet moments, echoes remain,
Of inside jokes and joy, mingled with pain.
Pictures fade, but memories hold tight,
Late night talks and stars shine bright.
Though miles may stretch and lines rearrange,
In hearts embrace, we will never be estranged.
So here's to the friends who've journeyed afar,
You shine in my thoughts, like a guiding star.
Though distance may linger and life pulls away,
That bond we forged will forever stay.
Strung out tired & emotional
dont even know what we fighting for
Brain fog over-taking the both of us
Tempers short
Sayin mean sht
But don't even know
the reason for it
2 broken souls-
Been through Hell & back
Still love & kindness in their hearts
Is never lacked
Fate pulled them together
Bcus they were made for eachother
That's not doubt a fact
Grew up learning
to survive in this toxic world
Never got a chance
At the life they deserved
Broken but not knowing
Slowly turning colder & colder
As they were growing
Had many masks they wore
Feeling like being loved
was too much of a chore
She lost her faith in the Lord
as his strengthed as he matured
2 souls created and fated
To one day cross paths
And help one another heal
From their undeserved pasts
R-accoons
E-xpress
Y-outhful
L-ife's
E-nigmas,
N-aturally
P-rowling
A-midst
L-ong
E-venings,
N-osing
C-unningly
I-nside
A-bysses
©bfa061525
Monocrostic (Birthday of Reylen O. Palencia)
wandering in wasteland
of denuded life
desolate
sinuous track
takes me
to the terrain
of nowhere
nebulous
I’m entangled
in enmeshing web
of
enigmatic conundrum
shall I escape
from decay delirium
or not
I can’t decide
ingrained imprint
indelible
of
wheel of time
turning
in destiny domain
twisted out
of tormenting tangle
of tortuous trail
of passive past
steers
with promise
of pride
my fraught mind
out of maze
shows me
the pledged pathway
to fervent fountain
of misty meadow
protected
I break open
there
invisible barrier
you’ve built
of seclusion
around your garden
secret
blooming
furtive flowers
hidden
from me
but
I’ll saunter
there
suffused with
seraphic shine
sanguine
of sunburst dawn
new
I wish
before I walk
the last mile
our paths
will cross
entranced
coalesce
into oneness
someday
geese are arriving or going
straight lines crisscross the sky
a history of contrails
in a blue honking yonder
under
a brightly birthed daylight
eyesight cannot settle
but dazzles
upon fleeting wingtips
geese continue to fly
through gaps in time
ghost planes still roar
over unseen horizons
a peddle bike and hunched rider
whoosh past me
a streetlamp sprints
around my eyes
whichever way I go
the sky gets there before me
only to redraw the shape
of what has only just now -
occurred
Are you going to drive after this rain,
Maybe you should wait for it to dry,
For you will only slide into the same old rut,
Burrowing this rut deeper and deeper,
It will guide your tread but at a cost,
The deeper you go the higher the risk,
Risk of being stuck in this rut you are so fond of,
When it is the rut that keeps us from seeing,
Seeing other paths meant just for us.
Narrow
Puzzling
Rough
Rude
Through trails of
The Unknown
Based on Matthew 7:13,14
Two paths
One path is broad and straight
The way is easy and paved with gold
No hills to climb
No valleys to descend
Temptations line each side of the road
No strain or effort
Every indulgence fulfilled
The other path is narrow and windy
The way is difficult and paved with stones
Steep hills to ascend
Deep dark valleys to cross
No amenities to distract
Toil and weariness abound
Many take the first path
Pleasure, ease and comfort
Nothing to sacrifice
The portal is wide and open
Few take the second path
Too much sweat and toil
Everything to sacrifice
The portal is narrow and small
One path and portal
lead to eternal destruction
The other path and portal
leads to eternal life
Which one will you take?
“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood….”
Robert,
You let the split remain unresolved,
and while we stand in awe,
staring at your crossroads
etched in gold and shadow,
do you ever wonder
what lay beyond the path
you did not take?
Even though you say,
“I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.”
Did the road arch upward,
an unfamiliar melody on the wind?
Or did it tumble into brambles,
a half-forgotten warning?
Even now I see your boots----
Mud-caked, maple-tinged-----
pausing at the edge.
Here’s my advice, if you allow it:
Don’t linger too long
in the pondering.
Step once more
into the thicket, the gravel,
the unknown blaze of paths.
And when your pen hesitates,
push it further
to sketch the forest where both trails end-----
or perhaps where they entwine,
branches brushing like old friends.
Some questions don’t need answers,
but oh, how they crave
a different kind of wandering.
Regarding Robert Frost’s famous poem, ‘The Road Not Taken’.
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