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The Path



The path I followed was very narrow

Slight in curves not straight as arrow

Sheltered by an arch of leaves

Branches cupped like fingered eaves

Dappled light did filter through

As pebbled spotlights lit my view

Compelled I was to venture forth

Never sure of south or north

Considered if I should be stopping

As nervous mind read each outcropping

But settled was I on my task

Permission was not mine to ask

I was no hand that needed holding

Or naughty child that needed scolding

Possessed a nerve that few maintain

Bravura coursed through every vein

Bewilderment brought out no fear

So that wherefore was loud and clear

The goal to ferret out one’s worth

And question not our place on earth…

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