The Way

Rare to see a mirror
Which tells you what is nearer
To see both that and that which
Flies further and further away
But if you’re standing on that line
A dreadful tread and treading fine
You’ll see the thoughts which not were mine
And never mine to say
You could look back to see it
But all this you have passed
Was passed far past-
And then at last
You’ve started on your way
Though knowing the direction
Might help you down the middle
You’re leaving love and living little
else,
unless
you stray.