Though you see it not
there is a path,

and you are on it,
with or without
shoes or bonnet,

and if you wonder
where it leads,

though at times
it knocks you
to your knees,

trod bravely on,
and at each fork
and twist it shows,

sun high,
just set,
by dark of night
or dawn new rose,

through hard fought battles,
lowing cattle,
dust that settles,
and peace made in the aftermath,

do not forget
the way’s still there,
if you
persist to ask.

This entry was posted in Medium Length Poems, Poetry, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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