March 3, 2019 (I was 74)
Finding the way strewn with stones
that man fled lightly and quickly across them
Through a driving snowstorm he trod
upon the indentations of those gone before
reaffirming footsteps for those who follow
Across the rope bridge over the river
one bare foot carefully in front of the other
tried the resilience and influence of sway
At a crossroad chose without hesitation
between paths worn really about the same
knowing either led exactly where he was to go
Passing within a village or city he came to know
his destiny was not a destination
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