FINDING THE PATH.

Usually it’s true,
But more often it’s not,
And by and large I’m sure about that,
Although most of the time there’s an incredulity to it,

And while I know,
There’s an element of doubt,
But even as my certainty is assured
My attendant indecision is divisible by a wealth of options,

And more to the point
There’s less of an elevation,
But once the summits have been counted
There’s an amount of available space without a crown;

Although grasping this
I’m usually left without a clue
And the emphasis here is on the reason
Whilst still echoing the incoherence of an irrational action.

Now once concluded
All we have to do is begin,
And with this one statement alone we’ll grow
While at the same time settling for the realm of possibilities

That will ensure old age
Is met with all the vigour of youth,
And knowledge is kept for its external fluidity
Until swapped for love and its inherent usefulness.