The Fork in the Road

September 30, 1998

Three paths are waylaying, awaiting an

answer.

Three paths that break the line.

The strollers and the runners make way

on concrete, the earth and dry tar

that leads to the lonely dust or

gravel pressed.

Choice is all too much the prod or

the prancer.

Three paths are never to accept or

defer default.

Three paths of glow, illusion and gloom:

Glow to serve, the illusion to lose,

and gloom can only consume.

When the lines limited their ends,

The answer was previously sought.

Three paths are the man-made, and

a faux line.

Three paths that derail the two.

Illusion, the smudge of gloom;

no middle here; limbo is nonsensical.

Three paths and one is now through.

Oh, the first set of soles tender a

powdery soft road.

As throes of second soles are

honeycombed by thorns on a vine

that rend and bind and

intertwine.

© 1998 Jarrod C. Lacy

******