I’ve been a traveler for many years With many seasons before me. I’ve experienced hills and valleys, coldness and heat, Yet still have not seen all. I question my choice of paths often: Should I have charged boldly To that right path at the last fork? Or crept tentatively at that left several junctions back? Perhaps I should have tried the beaten path directly center. I pass the same landmarks occasionally And I wonder: Am I lost on a circular path? Do other travelers question their choice of roads, Or do they push on, blindly seeking the cliff’s edge? Possibly, I have no choice on this road. Maybe it’s fate. Did I elect this difficult, winding road That twists and curves as a serpent, Or is there a puppeteer somewhere, Dictating my actions subliminally? If so, then... ...where are the strings?