Lost in the woods

Iambic pentameter FTW.

There’s that cliché about the yellow wood �"
I wish there were a little yellow here.
Green overwhelms the places I have stood;
I feel suffocated in air that is clear.
Vacated campsites have lost their fires,
But embers still burn for those deep desires.

He who said that the roads were only two
Was never as lost as I am today.
I simply stand here and ponder the view,
Indecisive as the leaves while they sway.
Each of the directions seems just the same;
I can’t remember the way that I came.

The lucky ones find themselves at the sea,
Or else lie in hammocks wasting away,
Staring at stars pondering all that will be.
Here, not much changes between night and day.
Standing alone where everything is still
Demolishes any guise of a will.

He who ventures off into the unknown
Marvels at things not discovered before,
But danger lurks still in the overgrown:
He has no notion of what is in store.
Yet staying along the paths that are sure
Has never assured that we'll be secure.

I then move forward from my place of rest,
Pick a direction, and pass, to my right,
Some small yellow flowers, looking their best,
Dazzling in a small patch of sunlight.
Beyond, in the sky, planes fly overhead;
I sense new life in the path I will tread.