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the road.



how far does this road go, this path of life, these alleyways, these avenues woven as days, weeks, months and years crumble,


leaving us, at times upright, at times staggering as we waywardly stumble.




where does this road lead to, scrambling over boulders of pained time, helplessly flailing across the unknown distance still to be tread,


looking ahead, with no map, no sense of hope nor dread, yet oblivious to the many needles of passageways yet to be thread.




when does this journey of splintered hearts and fractured souls end, with us healing many times over, scrambling around at times in the dark, knowing not what lies beyond the next bend.




whom do we choose to venture along these boulevards, hand in hand, who are the fortunate ones who have another to hold, to gaze at sunsets, as together they lovingly stand.




why do i feel stranded, as if washed up on a desolate beach, walking amongst the throng, yet with that deeper connection always just out of reach.




why do i lose myself in the cacophonous crowd, my words dissipating in the wind, my verses becoming my only shroud.




why do i walk away when joy and peace and love is within my grasp, when our fingers are entwined, when onto hope we firmly clasp.




these questions billow through the misty haze of moments that slip away, in-between honeydew kisses,  smouldering in the cauldron of desire, fleeting smiles turned to ashes by the indiscriminate fire.




these questions jabbing at the core, immersed in rivulets of tears, seeking answers about this entire parade, is it all real, or is it merely a meaningless charade.




the questions come thick and fast, assaulting the senses as one tries to make sense, of love lost, of wounds still raw, of pain, of sorrow, and of seemingly unending strife.




the answer appears, blanketing the sun, cloaking the moon, an answer so simple, yet with profundity rife.




the answer:



this is life. 






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