Life's journey

is not a sort of a ritual of familiarity
but a migratory instinct driven trek,
undertaken only by you
and the reed ridden rut,
will as steel, for to travel is to live,
despite no obvious branching point
save surprises
as you crawl up the steep hill

only to slide down the sloppy gully,
stumbling and tumbling
all the way
pockmarked with bumps and potholes
as if it's for ever under construction.
If you miss a turn
only by the turn of years,
you retrieve the way and landscape

when the fog of mistakes dissipates
into pebbles of wisdom to cobble
the road of enlightenment
where you walk tall
not as a road user
but a road creator of life
on the same road
that once witnessed you fall.




Poetry by yoonoos peerbocus
Read 43 times
Written on 2021-01-31 at 13:22

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Eric Fronczak
The last verse starts and ends with great imagery. Love the way this flows
2021-01-31


josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
I enjoyed reading this. Well done.
2021-01-31