The Path Well Trodden

The trail that I chose was well trodden and well kept.
A choice at the behest of the voices that I believed knew better.
And by order of my fears: whose names were anxiety and coward.

Those companions clung to my heart and withered my hope of what I might do.

There was, a second path, though.
One that spurred from the first:
There, broken signs dangled, shadows struck out, branches were bare, and the path overgrown.
A sign warned;
“DANGER: Do Not Enter!”

Despite the warnings and auspicious omens,
Something on that path called to me like Sirens to Odysseus.
I heard a song of opportunities: love and work and life.
Though, the details were hidden by the detritus enveloping.

The look, the unknowing, the mystery, and the veiled truth
Made my fears, pierced my blood heart.

I couldn’t go then,
I may not now.

I dream of that choice, frozen in midnight pain.
Cursing my fear or mind for not seeing the truth in the way,
Misunderstanding my power despite the warnings of strangers,
Cursing the Carpes and the Diums for not meaning anything,
For not explaining anything or providing instructions or directions.

So in the moments I only had my own fear and those of others to listen to.

In the years since, I’ve observed fear’s nature and action’s consequence.
I’ve poisoned my fear, diluting its resolve and its grasp upon my soul.
And there were times when that same path had searched for me.
Despite how I hid,
It found me again and sang the Siren’s Call.

Yet I shied away muttering, utterings of
“Not good enough,”
“Not smart enough,”
“Not all.”

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