Dying way of life, way forward detours,
step by step in fog-shroud haze to nowhere.
The path is dark; pursue it if you dare.
Beware those serpentine, hairpin, blind turns.
You think the path will clear through things to learn.
You think without respect, no one will care.
You see uncertain guarantees, you fear.
You think the road to safety leads to ruin.
When you have hiked the hike to glimpse the top,
what if you see the mountain and conclude,
the skinned-knee effort wasn’t worth the climb?
What if the things released are just a drop
of blood, a prick in life’s slow interlude?
What if the forward path takes too much time?
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