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James R. Stout

The Path

Please allow me to share a poem that I recently composed. Thank you!

The Path

I crawled along a manicured path made of dirt and grass with dew.

Strange and wonderous things I saw, shiny, bright and new.

My eyes soon focused, and my understanding of life blossomed and grew.

and as I journeyed the path countless others joined on cue.

 

Soon the path was paved with stone and I walked and then I ran.

Curves and twists and turns appeared and the path darkled in short span.

Stones honed by hand were replaced by concrete made to tran,

and the tempo of life accelerated as did the speed of man.

 

I settled down in a pod of sorts to navigate the highway sky.

The miles were many, and the visions legion, questioned the aged “why?”

And all too soon I began to gray and grew weary of the buy and buy.

So, I returned to seek a simpler life, free from the eternal lie.

 

Time does not exist, yet it is a precious commodity all men seek.

And in my seeking I came upon a path, that belonged to the humbled meek.

A path that seemed familiar, that previously I had only glimpsed a peek.

The light grew dim, the sounds were silent, and numbed nerves were stilled,

but the cacophony blinded and deafened me as the path lead home, and my

heart, soul, and mind were filled.

 

 

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