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