From the very beginning, we communicated our intended destinations.
You chose to head east, while I set off north without hesitation.
Yet we keep crossing paths, despite our carefully planned intentions.
The programmer must have left a glitch in the Earth's rotation.

There is no perfect way, to live this life, every day,
Changes will come, and they will pass,
Nothing in this life, will forever last,
Every one’s  trail, curves, many ways,
Somethings , we are to experience, were planned before,
Our first day.
No one’s life is perfect, throughout every year,
For our soul to learn, and grow, we carry it through,
A mixture, from days of smiles, to cloudy moments,
Where we shed our tears.
Accepting  reality,  knowledge, our parts in this life, with age,
Will change, even though, your on the same stage.
We are each to mingle with, all types of people, traveling on our way,
If your lucky to be free, beware of habits, where you limit the growth,
Of your soul exploring, to only certain hours, of night or day.
The clock on the wall, many follow every day, was created by a human,
Some people enjoy, another person, telling them what to do every minute,
During this life’s stay.
The first clock was a pendulum clock, created by, Christiaan Huygenes,  in 1656,
Most humans would not survive, trying to live, as they did, in those lost days…


                                The Original tom Maxwell  ©  07/21/2025 AD

I decide to conquer the maze
A labyrinth sprawled ahead of me
LEFT
I run around brisk corners
hope sleeping out my heart
RIGHT
my stride is strong and fast
my hair blowing in the wind
RIGHT
but I halt rapidly
the path drawing to an end
I turn around and continue my run
but am faced only by dead ends
is there really any way through
or is this all a hopeless endeavour?

We can get
accustomed
to being too
familiar
with the
familiar
paths in life
under the
mesmerizing
mood
of
moonlight
starlight
or
streetlight
and
wind-up
taking
unwitting
detours off
these
familiar
paths in the
light of day
and lose
our way.

It's not learning to do without flour,
Or to like new substitutions.
It's steps on a road to be happier,
To be healthier,
To be you.

Sometimes,
and sometimes, just as I try
to doze on a sofa,
when I have nothing demanding to do
and I have time when I can
while away some time alone -

Sometimes like that,
I find my mind wandering,
I find myself wondering

"What if?"

I examine the sliding doors
The life choices
The milestones
that mark past crossroads.

And I story-tell, I dream-walk
I wander down roads not travelled.

And from that sofa
I wonder if I might now just about see
the next significant junction
on my horizon.

And in that wonder moment,
I promise the Makers of my turnings
that, this time, I'll be more adventurous
I'll trust Them more.
I'll take the road that carries
a little more risk, a little less certainty.

I pledge to not roadmap my journey,
at least not quite as much
as I typically do.
And I will entrust the future
into the more capable hands of those
who have no need for What ifs.  

I can trust the Makers, for
they know what lies ahead.
They have been there
and they can each see way more
than I can
from my sofa.

I gather words like fallen leaves,
Whispers of time caught in the breeze.
Each syllable a step untaken,
Each phrase a path half-awakened.

What if silence held the key,
To maps of thoughts that long to be?
Not carved in stone but etched in air,
Invisible threads that lead somewhere.

The ink may spill, the lines may blur,
Yet meaning stirs, a quiet murmur.
For in the spaces between the known,
Lies the truth we’ve never shown.