A Work In Progress

I wonder 

if that poetic road less traveled 

is still there before me 

as I stand at a crossroad once again

Appearing 

as a festering meat sack

of human emotional baggage.

My past behind me

No future ahead

Just today

And all that it brings to table.

Regrets emerge

submerge themselves

In "If only" 

Then prayer comes forth

And silence listens.

A deafening roar

In a sanctuary of dim belief

Where marble walls, and staues stare

Into an abys of nothingness

Where candles glare

 from red, and blue stained vases

And I whisper into darkest spaces

"Where is God if faith is endless?"

When forced to fight

A man fights

But he always has the option

To turn the other cheek.

When forced to follow

A person follows

But has the choice

To take another path.

I may choose to fight

And lose

I may follow

And lose myself, and my convictions

But I will never be a sycophant to philosophy

Someone else's policy, or the idea that I must always just suck it up, and carry on because that's what human drones do to survive in a world not of their own making.

D.A. Wittler

2/09/21