The path leads

The Path Chosen

A winters wind passes. A springs flower blooms. The autumn leaf falls with but a slight trace upon the ground. The summer sun shines through a canopy slowly swaying. Another year passes, unnoticed.

This path is where my feet rest, leaving their trace, the path where dozens of feet have passed before mine. This path is made of the soft earth and gives light to the beauty of its simple surroundings. It is this path, this spot where my feet now rest, this path that leads, that draws me further towards a new land, towards the unknown of what lies before me, on this path.

Silence like the sea. Not even the birds sing. There is no rustling underbrush, no creaking of the old and decrepit, no far off crash of rushing water upon forever smothered rocks. This is a world apart, a moment in time which will never be relived, never repeated. Yet it is only a moment, and soon my thoughts will penetrate this simplicity and attempt to place defining characters upon this space and time, forgotten. Is it a human deficiency, unfulfilled? Are contentment and happiness and perfection just ideals, words to make us believe we are forever striving for something material?

This path is where my feet rest, unnoticed except by me. It is I who decide to revel in this moment, to believe that the passing of time is something, something to relish, something to admire, something to sit back and watch. I have been raised to make the most of everything and anything that crosses my path. I hold the knowledge to pursue the path which I desire most. I think it is time I let this path show me where my feet rest. Let me truly see the beauty in the simplicity of a moment.

A winters wind passes. A springs flower blooms. The autumn leaf falls with but a slight trace upon the ground. The summer sun shines through a canopy slowly swaying. Another year passes, noticed.

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