Old empty road

 

I wandered down this empty road,
Alone and mystified.
"It's a journey meant for you alone,"
The signboard read.

I turned back to gaze at the steps I’d taken,
Then forward to discern a shroud of cloudy mist.
I envisioned the path ahead,
Remembered the sharp spicules I’d felt before.

I recalled the green pastures I’d stepped on,
Turned back, searching for them—
But the only way is forward.
I hoped the green pastures of before
Would multiply a thousandfold ahead.

But with the next step,
All I find are spicules.

I've walked this road all my life,
Yet I still can't predict
What lies beneath the next step.

Perhaps it’ll be a thorn,
Or a green pasture I tread upon;
Either way, it’s just hope—
A flicker in the mist,
The promise of pastures yet unseen.