Crawl

I don't know.

No hands but His to steady us;

If His hands truly exist.

No rags but His to dry our bleeding feet;

If He is truly there.

We are born into this world with broken souls;

We alone must build our existence.

We must make our journey into our life;

To who we weill oneday become.

 

My journey continues;

Bloody feet leaving a trail on cold ground.

My mind's puzzle has broken;

I'm in pieces.

 

I rest when arriving at a fork in my path;

(Am I just seeing things?)

The left path radiates;

Sunlit trees, rock path, water flows.

Safe to the naked eye;

A haven for a weak soul.

The right path an illusion;

Dark, lifeless trees, cold ground.

Fatal it seems to the weak;

No place you want to be.

 

A sign in this wasteland;

One reason to doubt niravana?

Just one sign; if You're there.

My bloody feet ache;

My knees will no longer hold me.

Crumbled on the ground;

My face to the skies.

"One sign, please."

 

Light breaks in the trees;

Sun shining a gorgeous ray.

Right...I crawl.

 

 

Author's Note

Choose.

Reviews

[Crowley]

I think that every path leads to an exotic destination...it gets good when we least expect it. Travel on sweet, nice write.

[sera bela]

Very beautiful. I love the flow of the poetic verse. I am confused. what do you mean by choose?

[jeff hackworth]

i truly am stomped what do u mean by this is it a poem of what emotion to trust or ?