He stood at the crossroads, looking in all directions.
So many options open to him
Five roads is more than enough
He must find the one he is searching for.
The clouds begin to come
thundering above, pillaging the sun's gifts
Four roads are still open
The roads grow darker, losing their luminescence
like stars, fading to a void
He dismisses them, concentrating on the others.
Surely three roads are enough
He does not notice the storm above
emanating from the shadowy forest of his mind
clouding his vision, blinding him to his goal.
One path or the other
He sees too late, the trap.
Like an animal trapped in the mire.
Possiblities dying as time races on.
One road is better than none
Lamenting his indecision
he watches the last vestiges of illumination
be consumed by the eternal night of the mind.
There are no roads
Time is like a strain of music
easy to remember
impossible to catch
But still, you must try