Wandering

Upon my pilgrimage, weak and weary on my feet,
Wandering the depths of the dark cold streets,
And by chance on my travels, a stranger I meet.
With his old, sun-beaten and weathered face,
His glance meets mine, in a kind sort of grace,
And supports my fatigued shoulders in an aiding embrace.
Tell me guest, have you far to go?’
Oh, kindly stranger, I do not know,
I know not how far I have to go.’
Then please tell me you have a place to stay?’
I shook my head with deep dismay.
I have not a place to stay, and if I did, I have not money to pay.’
And in that moment he looked at me,
I had half expected him to flee,
Instead, he just stared back pityingly.
It was this look which made me ashamed,
Kindly stranger, I ask for nothing.’ I proclaimed,
As I drifted on my journey feeling maimed.
Further on at the path side, I began to lament,
I was lost, and this was my torment,
My life in a state of complete discontent.
And through my tears, I saw an ambushed deer,
It thought through strength and flailed in fear.
But after it’s suffering, the fawn was clear.
And at that moment it became evident,
That whatever path I took was irrelevant,
And that life was simply about development.
The only people who can truly help us, are ourselves,
But by our journey, we must not be overwhelmed.
My path is mine to choose,
For this fact, one must peruse.

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