A 'Literary Meandering' as suggested by Gabriella to the Rising Stars
Before me lies an endless plain
Behind a forest vast and deep
How do I choose or ascertain
The better route for me to keep?
If o're the plain I wander far
and follow bison where they lead,
perhaps I'll catch a falling star
perhaps I'll die in a stampede.
If through the sycamore and oak
I make my path among the trees
I may find elves in leaves encloaked
I may regret the absent breeze.
What if I stay between betwixt
And choose to not choose either call?
Just stand as Gorgon's prey transfixed
I'll not get anywhere at all.
Friends, bewail my indecision.
Wife, don't weep as I fuss and fret.
Strangers, mock me with derision.
I hear you, though I stand here yet.
Perhaps the gods of ancient yore
Will revel in revealing clues
and relish such a modest chore,
and by their aid themselves amuse.
No, duty states that I must act
Must 'grow a pair', my kids might say.
I'll make a plan and then enact
it 'fore the dimming of the day.
I step forward then step back,
Raise the flag, see who salutes.
I peer down at the one small track
I made myself with my own boots.
But, bah, this journey's not begun
No tales to tell if here I stand
No odes, poems, or epics spun
Unless I leave this cursed land.
That's it, the plain before me lies
I have no cause to turn about.
Not though the forest softly cries
in dulcet tones, or pleads and shouts.
I take a step toward my fate
My opportunities are vast
Nor do I pause or hesitate
My time is now, that time has passed.
Gabriella suggested that we write an epic poem that meanders along the lines of William Blake's Auguries Of Innocence, and I thought to add a bit of Robert Frost to the mix. I must concede that while my poem meanders, the character is a bit of a stick-in-the-mud.