“A Path Untraveled,” composed on 26 May, 2012.

Walk with me now, if you dare,

Under the heat of the sun, failing to care,

Like a petunia, blushing bright and fading sour.

All around now, you and I,

All around now, beneath the sky,

Splayed and rumpled,

Wanting nothing.

And the light from the sun, filling the view,

Building the hopes of me and of you.

The paths at noon, in the park

Separate, combine, insinuous and slithering.

Stalking through the blowing silent grass;

Solemn travelers, journeying early,

Never arriving.

Follow them now will you? Follow them far?

Guided not onward except by a star—

A star that whispers to you in the night:

Stella Maris, verdant comfortor, saying nothing

Of note.

Here in the day it will not avail you,

Here in the noon it cannot entail you,

Entail to impale you, shiv’ring with rhymes.

As the light from the sun, filling the view,

Burdens the souls of me and of you.

Which path to take then? Which path to follow?

Both have been travelled, neither is fallow,

Both have been tramped on, stomped on, disheveled.

Neither will ever dissent and be leveled.

Always accepting, leading, and guiding.

Always preceding, receding,

Bitter and incorrigible.

With the light from the sun, filling the view,

Crushing the spirits of me and of you.

Left indecisive,

“What did you say?”

“What?”

“What did you call me?”

We come round full circle; the circus of rhetoric.

Hollow sounds:

Signifying nothing as the something that they mean.

Filling life with gross expectation,

Building dreams through crass emulation.

Childish and juvenile, the clown’s coup d'état.

If you allow it, he will be crowned,

Speaking wise-sounding folly through three diabolic mouths,

Leading us down in the slow circle dance

“With kings and counselors.”

And the light from the sun, bleaching the view,

Consumes the consciousness of you.

I’d prefer not to choose.