Too Many Roads to Turn

Too many roads to turn upon,
Too many signs at break of dawn,
Each arrow points to something new,
A different sky, a different view.

One road is paved with careful plans,
One winds through fields of shifting sands,
One disappears beyond the hills,
Where silence waits and time stands still.

I stand between a thousand ways,
Counting futures, counting days,
Wondering which path I should choose,
Afraid of all I might still lose.

Yet every road I leave behind
Keeps its shadow in my mind,
A ghost of what could someday be,
A life unlived that follows me.

The crossroads do not speak my name,
They offer promise just the same,
And none can tell me where they end,
Or what I’ll find around each bend.

So maybe roads are not the test,
Nor finding out which one is best;
Perhaps the journey’s truest art
Is choosing one with all your heart.

And when the evening paints the sky,
I’ll know at least the reason why:
No road reveals itself from start—
The path is made by those who part.

Thank-you for reading.

Brenda Marie