Paths

I.
Pick up on the thread,
follow it from end to end,
leading in to a wild place
undiscovered save for in the mind,
where you get confused
over motives,
used for your strengths,
picked first or second or third
to play in the game,
where the rules are not set,
but made up- so it goes,
and only a few see the
value of this, and the
consequence,
the gravity that comes with
this law of indefinable
momentum that takes you
with it;
ride it out or brace for
the impact,
but choose wisely.

II.
Balk at the spine of a horse,
shy away and you might
just overlook the intent
of the line drawn from
one side to the other.
The groan of gears will
set the undertones for
the next performance,
set to play whether you
are prepared or not
for what it yearns
to say.

III.
The spool unwinds,
the road spins away
faster- you can almost
hear it screaming,
a beckoning siren call
that draws you in
to better understand
and hear what it
has to tell you.
So listen, and you'll
know.

by Ayn Timmerman

Other poems of TIMMERMAN (37)

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