Written the day before my birthday.
Before you was set the path,
What you were supposed to do,
What they said you were supposed to do?
But you didn’t like being told what to do,
So you wandered off the path.
And years went by
And you never stopped wandering
You never found your own way.
And before it was too late you looked back
You saw your foottreads, and also the path,
You saw that you had wandered over it
quite a few times in the many months of your rebellion
What was it like when yours intersected with the path?
Those were the good days amidst the confusion
That was the light, or hope of light, in the darkness, wandering
And for once, for the first time you wonder,
What is down that path? And why was it set before me?
And why did they tell me to walk down it?
And you find your way back
And you take a step and realize,
Before everyone was set a path,
What we were supposed to do,
What they knew we were supposed to do,
And that you would be free to find your own part,
But maybe this time walk whilst accepting the wisdom,
And seeing exactly where this path may lead.
And even when the path disappeared,
you were not surprised,
because you knew it was still there
And that you were there
To map your part.