This path is mine

“This question is one that only a very old man asks. Does this path have a heart? All paths are the same: they lead nowhere. They are paths going through the bush, or into the bush. In my own life I could say I have traversed long long paths, but I am not anywhere. Does this path have a heart? If it does, the path is good; if it doesn’t, it is of no use. Both paths lead nowhere; but one has a heart, the other doesn’t. One makes for a joyful journey; as long as you follow it, you are one with it. The other will make you curse your life. One makes you strong; the other weakens you.” – Carlos Castaneda

This path is mine

Upon waking,
she used to just stay in bed
for hours and hours,
but inflamed by a
passion’s magical powers,
an old blue watering can
closely kept,
beckoned her before
the morning began,
while all the world fastly slept.

Decreed by design
this path is mine,
filled with heart,
body and soul,
with thorns and thistles,
and every twisty-curvy part
that makes me whole.

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