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




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