They are the only ones who seem to move. I am the only one who must walk on them. Three shifting roads with skinny gravel paths and thick abundant trees so you can’t see the end. Three who shouldn’t make it hard for me to choose but do. Three endless paths that sprawl across the plain. From far, only trees can be seen, but up close you see paths you must one day take.
Their conclusions are secret. They wind ferocious paths above the ground. They try and test and grab the earth with sharp stone teeth that bite the dirt.
rough stones that never quit testing you, making the path uneven.
if one road sees you near, they all enchant like genies,
each intrigue you with their promise of good to come. Come, come, come they say. They captivate.
When I think of which to take, which come to listen to, when I listen to what things may come, then it is the paths I look to. When the sounds of what may come say its time. Three who shift and sprawl. Three who try and test and grab the earth. Three shifting roads, who now become one. One winding road I must take.