The Narrow Path

Out in the woods, a narrow path juts out of the blankness

And snakes underneath shadows of thorn trees

Into a hidden valley –

It looks clean and swept

As if many feet have journeyed upon it

In search of God-knows

That which exists beyond the realm of the transient present

A search out of the frozen reality of being

The path closes at my feet,

And for some reason I wish I was the moon

Free to awaken dark azures

Beyond the thorn trees, I suddenly see the path opens widely

Yet, I stand still stuck in the whip lashes of forbidden pleasures

Reveling in endless supplies of still waters

That atrophy a quest within

And reduces me to a scarecrow

The ordinary path I choose wrinkles on

Till a grave appears, and swallows a dream never lived

A faith never practiced

A vision that only hung in the unseen like neglected biltong

Stooping, afraid of the thorns –

Fearing the venom of purgation

To rid the sediment collected within.

I creep till the darkness gathers

And everything remains the same like yesterday’s dream

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