a collection of old and new poems

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The Path

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  • 2 minutes read
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  • Oct 10, 2020

As I stroll along this path

I know my journey will be long

I know I won’t have a perfect adventure

But I will try my best to stay along

The rugged rocks beneath me

The slim branches that let in rays

The small insects that fly around me

The whispers that enter my head

I try to escape the distractions

And walk simply down this path

But once or twice I slip

Or sway to the side instead

There is no perfect path

Or we would all be each the same

We can choose any type of journey

We all have our own tasks

As a smile comes across my face

I think of the past times on my path

The laughs

The tears

The moments I feared

Each second was so outstanding

Standing softly on this path

Even while I walk or run

I smile as I think back

The folds of trees

The overgrowth of roots

The small and torn leaves

I step alongside so many others

Whom which I will cross paths

The patterns and lines amaze me

Oh, how much one can truly see

As they stop to see the sights

Or live quietly in misery

I do not want to run

Or walk with a quick pace

I aim to take a deep breath

And see all of my own fate

I own this path

I brush the strokes that create it

I sail the boat that guides it

My steps mark the moments

Where I have been, gone, and will go

As I sit for a second and ponder

I know my path is right

The wide

The tall

The short

My path offers me space to grow

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