Is this where I am going?
Because if that dirt stained
winding and foggy road
is the path that I have started on
Then I will make a sharp left turn
and discover what lies in the forests.
Is this where I belong?
Among the shadowy trees
The wild musk of wet grass
Where mongrels rise to mild fame
and die just as anonymous as the were born
living a life of exile shaded by the leaves
Is this the path I am to walk?
Leaving the leaves and trees
To find the grey and fetid swamp
and muck my way through the mire
Till I see the snow white peaks
Stark contrast to muted tones of yesterday
Is the path before me of my own choosing?
Or has every step
From muddy and stained streets
To the frozen steps nearing the top of the world
Been planned for me to walk
So that I may cause another event
already prepared to be set in motion?
Is this my own life?
Has every destination
been a fraudulent distraction
Blinding me from the god awful truth
That where you stand
or where you walk
doesn't mean a thing.
But does it really matter?
Who cares if life has no meaning?
What does it matter if we walk without reason?
How does purpose effect the ebb and flow of time?
Why ask a question if there is no answer?
Where are we?
We are alive
That is the only location
and the destination is another life.
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