Walking Stick

A journey takes many forms
Sometimes you don't even realize you're on one,
Then you stumble upon a piece of driftwood
Long ago separated from its tree.

It's a hardened old stick
Showing a lifeline of growth,
Rot has not yet taken over,
It is a firm but flexible stick.

You can tell it's had an interesting existence
Its path was straight at one point,
With minor deviations along the way
Mostly smoothed out over time.

But life gave it a more pronounced diversion,
The bumps and knots in the road are clearly seen here
Where a decision was made - "I'm going my way"
And a new path was formed.

But this old stick has found a new purpose,
It's been salvaged from a piece of driftwood left for rot,
Restored not to its former glory, but to a new beginning,
Soon to be transformed with new life.

It was not picked up with that intention,
For its fate was as clear as a pile of sticks beside the fire,
But something made this driftwood stand out from the others,
Maybe a confidence that it had survived this long.

It would not break with a simple snap,
The knots, discolourations, and a twisted form would not yield,
This driftwood wanted more and made its presence felt,
Its existence was a testament to greater meaning.

Soon it will be supporting walks, and hiking on new adventures,
Its next journey will take a took form,
For a Walking Stick is not meant to lead,
But to support those who have taken the path not taken.