The One that rhymes aka Roads version 2

6 Apr

Numerous unwritten ideas and half-written material hang around in my mind, gathering dust.  I have not the courage to commit them to existence nor patience to finish what I’ve started. Yet, once in a while, I like to take them out and re-visit them. We are like old friends – my creations and I.

I consider this half-done state of being very characteristic of me, for I am also otherwise known as “a state of unlimited potential” duncha know? 🙂

Anyway, in an earlier post I said I was going to rework a “poem” I wrote in my (relative) youth. But first, a pretty picture… 🙂

"Puddle" woodcut by M.C. Escher (1952)

 This version tries to massage the previous text into the mould of rhyming.  I don’t know if it works, I only know it can be better, but *shrug* here goes (for now)…

 * * *

Perceptive is the man who saw

And told fair many that life was all

But a journey – up, along and through

A hidden path winding, or maybe two.

At crossroads I found myself confronted.

Prongs too many, had me confounded!

Which way to go? I’m blind to the horizon

No one knows really, things that could happen.

Sometimes shrouded in mystery, progress forestalled

Other times maybe, blinkers installed

For some , choices come rarely, no promised land

The roads so steep, there’s no way to stand

They merely roll into the next, into the next, into the next.

Get up, look back, forgot, perplexed.

Never getting back on the road they had.


Forget them roads; brave fool walk your own!

The wise once descended the trodden dirt path alone.

For those spirit walking, all the world is a road.

Complex, overlapping, your freedom bestowed.

Sometimes common travelers, well met.

Together confiding, laughing, all sorrows forget.

Yet that road so common one day will find

A serpent’s fork waiting, changes of mind.

People try walking, stubbornly their own path.

Hands still holding, tearing, straining arms

Sooner or later. Tripping over, both falling!

Some pre-empting, let go and stand tall. Laughing.

Or else let vice grips grow loose and apart.

Good times had we once, do not take to heart.

Back there somewhere, blurry shadow stirs, dearly departed,

Lingering fragrance, lover lost. Who are broken hearted.

Soon, finally you move on, you and me disappear.

Still the silly hopeful stands virgil, shouting tears,

At last he crumbles, voiceless and severed.

But at the end of it all…

Wait a minute. What for?

There is no end to the roads.

They go on and on. You, on the other hand, don’t.


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