A Lack of Maps

The path is not a direct line
and from the beginning point there is no way to know
where it ends, what you will see along the way
or how long the journey. There are no maps.

Perhaps it would be safer to stay where you are
in the land of the known, the safe, if somewhat dull
place you have lived for these many years.

And so morning after morning, you come to this place,
the beginning, and look at the wandering gash
through the field, into the woods, dark and mysterious,
every morning a decision.

You know yourself. You will end up taking the journey
and you will wonder why you waited, why you hesitate,
until finally, like some irresistible force, you will take
the first step, and then the next one, and the next,
into the darkness, wondering when, or if
you will ever come home.

About This Poem

A poem about taking big steps in our lives. Work related. Love. Faith. Artistic.

The picture was taken at Cape Cod.

Tom