Easier Said Than Done
at leveled or disheveled best,
but is it over the next hill,
or do I bypass the obvious
taking to the wood --
taxed lungs and chapped cheeks,
ascending meaning everything,
backing down not an option?
Or, is it better to trip and fall the bogs,
leading to the depths of a black forest,
my hands and face torn by nettles,
teeth clenched in firm resolve
even though I’d like to spit and quit.
I’m not sure which is best, or who decides.
There are no forks in the road,
Mr. Frost, and I can’t see beyond
the end of my nose, the hurt in my heart,
the silence killing my ears,
and all my good sense is lost.
"There’s a time that you can share, that you can hold hands and be on the same path…but there’s always a fork in the road…at some point…and sometimes you have to go on one part of the fork and they got to go on the other part of the fork…or just down the back part of the fork while you go forward, and they’re like…or they got a salad fork and you have one of the big dinner forks and you have longer to go and they’re like done…because that’s it…they’re stuck on a piece of food…or a dessert fork…or like one of those, you know, small little shrimp forks and crab forks and you’re trying to get out a crab…they’re like that and your over here jumping to the huge serving fork or something like that…or a ladle, you know…" gerhardt from the movie "28 Days"