There are paths through the forest;
They wind and crawl and, sometimes, hide behind themselves…
Twisting and beckoning towards a place where they either vanish;
Or lead to a solid wall….
…A wall covered in words that read “regrets”.
There are times in the forest;
They curl and drag
All the while speeding the rust on the soul;
And lead to a solid wall….
…A wall covered in grey and in moldering dreams.
There are people in the forest as well;
They grab and tug and scratch and pull…and hide behind themselves…
Holding fast to you and to your path where they either suddenly vanish;
Or lead you to a solid wall…
…a wall bearing your name—and the years you lived.
There are places in the forest;
They split and lead off in differing directions;
Turning one way and then another
Some to the light, others starting towards light then falling onto darkness…
They both lead to solid walls..
…walls where it is written “If only”.