Crossroads

A man sits on a stone at the crossroads
Looking at the ground
There’s a post at his back with arrows on it
Showing which way to go
He goes nowhere; chaining himself to the stone; no decision
Afraid to quest, afraid to leave
Afraid to tarry, to stay
Clouds stagnate in the sky, suffocating the blue

How long will he sit there?
How long will he last?
Will he move on his own?
Will he be taken away?
Will he die, chained to his stone
(He’s no Prometheus)

He breaks the chains and lifts his head
The clouds break and blue shines through
He studies the post and its arrows
He stands on the stone and he turns;
Studying the roads, the paths his life can take
Not knowing where to go
Not liking his choices
Knowing they’ll lead back here
He blazes his own trail . . .