When the road you travel is blocked.
By a fallen tree;
Or you may just turn back.
When the party ostracizes you ,
And you linger on the periphery
Of their closed and glitzy gathering
You may betray yourself and become of them
Or you may also choose to turn away.
When the path you travel is flooded
Or equally choose to turn back.
Who wont remember your daily visit
You may choose to call today or leave it until tomorrow
And just turn away
When the you boat sail becomes becalmed
In the open vastness of the sea :
You may just float with the Atlantic drift;
Or you may choose to row unyielding against the tide
And not turn back.
When the Clairol girl jumps the queue
Because she’s told she’s worth it
You may choose to tell her she’s not.
Or you may choose to simply turn away.
When the wind blows against you as you walk
And sand blows up from the strand into your eyes ,
With vexatious swirling gusts
You may choose push onward –
And lean with all your might against elements
You may choose to turn back
But something from the great unfathomable;
Gives me sometimes an urgent inkling that;
The more ennobling the journey and yet;
Its reward may not be so evident to you
Against the thousand daily temptations to turn away;
Is itself a statement of yourself;
Into the vastness of eternity;
And maybe in another Eternity;
Someone, or some form is smiling gently on you.
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