A dusty fork in the road
lays before me,
Which to choose?
Each has it's own beauty
and yet is drastically different,
But I have no time to
think,
Must go with my instincts
So I leap down one path
and leap to another fork,
And another,
And another,
And still I press on
And I fly up above the
road,
I see the whole landscape
and my path,
It's overall pattern,
Weaving through the silence
with it's intricate dips and turns
And the feeling captures
me,
Lifts me to the heavens,
The song has no beginning,
The song has no end,
It is just there
And I....merely a traveller