wither, whether, whirl,
or want,
the road awaits,
patiently.
destination determined long ago:
before eye opened.
before heart awakened.
before path chosen.
beauty,
fleeting and fickle
like the moon,
cannot guide you…at least not for true.
love,
flowing fresh and pure,
may still dry
under persevering Sun.
what compass, clue, or guide remains?
how then,
do we wind
along?
one step at a time,
this way,
or that;
our destination awaits,
patiently.
theDeprevation 