Looking ahead I see, strange paths fogged with haze.
On ends I strain, to peek at what's in store for me.
But with the wind the fog dances,
mocking my indecisiveness.
I wish a gust would clear my path,
but when it comes, I fear,
it might be the warning of a storm at heel.
To walk the path less taken
or to travel the one more common;
To follow my heart or listen to my head?
Unsure, I stand and continue to wait.
Eugene remembered @ 6:59 PM
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