My Road
Location
The road ahead doesn't’t have a fork in it
It does not twist or turn like the road adjacent
Only continues on and on in a set line
The stones and mortar used to build my road were not chosen
Weeds cover the surface, blocking the once unique color from view
Cracked and worn out by those who have traveled my road before
I remember the road adjacent my own
And there are times I wish for its vibrant colors and clean stones
But the guard rails on my road remind me why I am here and not there
My road is busy
There are many people who travel on my road
And I learn that I am not the sole proprietor of this road
Only a participant in its monotony
The people on my road share the same face
Hard set in false determination
Rarely there are those who move in high spirits
Skipping along stones not covered in weeds that I cannot see
Laughing back asking why the rest of us are moving so slowly
There are rare occasions where I see a partaker to the road adjacent mine
They are not walking like I am
They are running
Speeding past even the fastest skippers on my road
Soon they are out of my sights
And soon they are back in my sights
But this time they are not running
They are weighed down
Covered by the weeds that drag them down
Trudging on, pulling the weeds off one by one by one
But eventually they cripple under the weight
When I see these people I realize
My road is the road of the wise
Not the road of the individual
The artist
The athlete
The performer
The inventor
My road is safe
My road is a predetermined strip of standardization
My road is not mine