On life and its vagaries


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Where the road ends

There I start my journey

 I intend to begin where

Others have failed


I had toiled for days to get here

But I am disappointed

The woods are sparse, dried and stunted

Not something I had expected

They hold no secrets

That I do not know.

I had thought of something dense

Inaccessible, and intriguing

When I thought of the forest

But there wasn’t a tree, bush

Vine, sapling, and underbrush I didn’t know

I had seen all the crags, canyons

Marshes, un-flowing streams,

Dip’s, rises and dark places even before.


These woods had sprung, flailed, and spread

Like all those that I had seen in life

They had shed, torn up, broken themselves

In the manner I knew well

There were signs of past visits by

Axe-murderers; and were traces of beings

Who were abused by brutes

And were beyond recognition a sense…..


I know all this

The dripping sap, the severed limbs,

the stench of decay, the garbage of time

I had fled from these

Never to return

Never to dream, cry, hope, and be proud

Never to hurt, go to war, rile and gasp

Never ever to grasp at withering echoes



I fail again, there’s no place else to go,

But within, and

That I fear!



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