So many choices!
Such broad vistas!
But each door taken closes others;
that's their dirty little secret.
It's what they don't tell you in their classrooms
and in those rooms of comfy couches and placid pictures
where people speak in soothing tones,
smiling their sympathetic smiles.
On the streets and in the cube farms,
under the buzzing lights,
they understand but have no pity:
Buck up, camper!
That's just the way it is!
There is no mercy for those who mourn the truth,
who see the narrowing of the pyramid we climb
and grieve the loss of empty space below.
You want choices?
You must turn back,
but that is
Tell them to go to hell.
Time isn't a line, but a field.
If you want the joy of choice,
the whole buffet of tasty options,
you must abandon this trajectory
and return to how it was
in the beginning.
Author's Note: This is not where I am at present, although it's a place I'm familiar with. I wrote this for a couple of my regular readers. You know who you are. This is also a Sunday Scribblings post.