Don’t mistake choosing a path with courage;
A fork is a gun held to the head. Over
The shoulder, wilderness uncrossable
Has grown. Prudence, like Virgil to your Dante,
Guides choice, and prudence is not courageous.
Praise not some dead leaves, underfoot, over
Others nor sigh in relief or grief that
Keeps a reader guessing. Choice is a must,
Desire like those leaves lies crumpled
At the threshold where stasis was painful.
Logic rules minds where there is no place for
Heart, scything through chirps which give hope that is
Perishable by its very nature.
Trees between paths hide them, helping curb what
Mind calls curiosity, the heart nostalgia
And my Will an unfortunate nuisance.
The photograph is taken from Arnaav Bhavanani’s album: M-K / 1724KM, 11C, 5D