Love is not visible to the eyes but to the soul - Shakespeare

Thursday, 31 March 2011

Just around the Riverbend


I find myself at a crossroad these days, and the fear of turning either way almost overcomes me. I'm surrounded by highways and have lived on one for so long that I cannot remember what it was like to make turns and even head turns at one's whim.
Everything about choosing your path seems to come to my attention easily at the moment, and I can easily think of some ways it has occured in the past few days. Pocahontas' 'Down the Riverbend', the Cheshire Cat and Alice's conversation in 'Alice in Wonderland', and the poem by Robert Frost 'The Road Not Taken':

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference."
 

I'm afraid to get it wrong but I know that my current lack of action is just a waist and even worse. I can hear the dooming sounds whenever I try to make a decision. It is almost too life-changing to bear on my own shoulders alone. I need guidance but fail to know the source of it and where to seek. The time runs so fast and I'm not sure how to follow at this speed.The little white rabbit runs around me with his clock and frantically shows it to me while mumbling, 'We're gonna be too late..' over and over. My heart trembles and my body is paralysed. What am I too late for? I feel like I'm going to be too late, but I don't know for what and I want to hold the little rabbit tight and shake him untill he tells me..
'Tik tok tik toc', is all I hear..



1 comment:

Mademoiselle Poirot said...

Listen to your gut-feeling - it's generally right :-) Lovely poem xo

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