The Living Paths of Life

 
It is the treading of this path,

the trepidatious treads that track

back to tiles past trodden,

revealing congealing prints

of past gone pathways

on ancient roads now sodden.

Thick with moist mossy overgrowth,

the only sign of growth of time,

but now though faded still remains

the signage of the rugged climb.

That climb from dark despairing pits

that Pity’s arm does seldom reach,

where come emerging from the dark

the inner flames of one’s desire

to make it out and up those trails

that point ahead to inner fire.

It is the treading of this path,

that lights the trepidatious way

from burdens heavy weighing down

and bludgeoning the living day.

The light beyond still lies ahead,

look no longer back in sight,

for then the road will turn anew

to pastures green and lit with light

where one may walk in coming days

away from painful lonesome nights.

It is the treading of this path,

the steady treading leading on

as footsteps move in constant thrum,

that each of us must make in turn

and in so doing come to learn

the cuttings of the pain of strife,

but days ahead will always come

to tread the living paths of life.