I stand where trodden roads diverge,
Their ends concealed in silent verge.
One beckons loud with maps and signs,
The other hums in whispered lines.
No lantern lights this shadowed trail,
No voices cheer, no landmarks hail.
The trees lean close, the wind holds breath—
Each step a brush with life or death.
But something stirs beneath the fear,
A pull that draws the wanderer near.
Not promise made, nor prize in store—
Just something more than walked before.
The known path offers easy days,
With polished stones and well-worn praise.
But here, beneath the wild unknown,
I feel a truth that’s mine alone.
The thorns may cut, the stars may stray,
But dawn still rises either way.
And though the path is dark and deep,
It holds the dreams I cannot keep.
So let the others choose the clear,
I’ll walk where echoes guide the ear.
For though I do not know the end,
The unknown path may be the friend.
Thank-you for reading.
Much love and Light,
Brenda Marie Fluharty
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