Thoughts: The End is a New Beginning

He walks the dusty trail,

Wandering vagabond, he looks frail.

A steadfast look at the tranquil yet ominous,

Inviting, yet treacherous.

A vast emptiness lays unfolded in the dust,

It requests, invites and then begs him to take them on.

And when all else fails….

They dare him, “Come on, you are but our pawn”.

 

He keeps his calm,

The rattle in his walk, acts as a balm.

Determined, the swagger.

He won’t back down, he never has,

The trail stands on its own,

He continues to walk alone.

His pace consummate,

He walks into the unknown, he can’t turn back, it is too late.

Not too fast for he doesn’t underestimate,

Not too slow for he isn’t laid back, he has his faith.

He walks into the unknown,

Begrudgingly

 

The woods, they invite,

Playfully for starters, just to get a bite.

For they know he is not one to be mocked

Time and again, they try, they want him shipped,

They want him docked.

And he walks on….

The zephyr turns to a breeze, the breeze to a gale

The rustle of the leaves, the chirp of the birds

The decibel grows, they want him to fail.

And then,

Just as quickly as the cacophony had risen,

It drops.

The saturninity transcends.

An eerie placid calm returns

He waits,

For the inevitable storm.

 

The storm is a myth, He keeps his fend,

He can’t let go, for what lies await at the far end,

His dream, his life, his ‘prize’,

His wish, his desire, the love he eyes.

The disturbances bother him less, (or have they reduced?)

He walks on looking to find his bliss.

His eyes transfixed, he sees his gift.

A deep breath, a sense of accomplishment.

And then, he does what he intended to do,

He picks up his prize,

Smashes it to the ground

It glitters back at him, confused, pleading.

He mocks condescendingly,

He walks on…

He walks on alone.

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