The Path

The path I shall walk may be old, controlled.

But the worn threshold I behold has foretold:

The worth of the thousands of steps I’m to take,

And thousands and thousands of mistakes I’ll create.

I shall be following the thousands before,

And still be followed by thousands ‘evermore.

Yet I will walk forward, no stay in my stride,

For I now take pride that the path is implied.

This poem is about: 
Me

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