sitting on a tree limb
watching an autumn sunset,
i think back to all the moments in my life
that may or may not have counted.


i tend to look at the possibility
of everyone and every idea
and i weigh them on a magical scale
that looks like god's thumb nail.

when i make a choice
to do the right thing,
it always requires a large degree of hope,
mixed with intense stubbornness
and it is always met with a great deal of
cynicism.

now i have failed a great deal in my life
but i have also accomplished many of the goals
i set before myself.

at this moment,
as i fiddle with words on paper,
i am at two or three, or several paths to choose from.

the easiest path, a paved interstate highway,
leads to the scenery of most of I-29:
flat fields with sparse towns separated by miles and miles
of open nothingness, but the view of the sunset sure is nice.

two or three paths are impossible to see down,
one requires a plane,
the other involves a machete,
and the other involves a series of unnerving compromises.

either way, these paths have no insight on
where I'll end up on the other side,
and that's the possibility
of waking up every day and never knowing
where this life will take you.

so i start to walk inside,
tearing a page of scribble words out of my notebook,
and i crumple it up, throw it in the wind, and watch it
tumble into the thicket of who knows what.

11/16/2008

Posted on 11/17/2008
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