They say a trodden path is sounder
For ghosts of feet that went before.
And though it feels familiar
We tend to choose this long way round.
But is it even true it’s longer?
Most byways offer to the eye
Extraordinary delights denied
To those who join the trudging throng.
I’ll slip through the restricted quarter
And leave the main road for a track
That shows no sign of winding back:
A short cut isn’t always short.
I wouldn’t want to get there sooner,
The absolute, my destiny.
It’s hard enough to plan that journey.
There is no short-cut to the moon.
The truly human is the truant,
The sense that truth only resides
Just to one side of things, beside
The route that shoulders blindly through.
And so I’ll turn aside to wander,
And dart, uncertain of my aim
Down dark alternatives, at whim,
Impossible to see beyond.
Errant and extemporizing,
They’re not short-cuts, although I trust
They might be. They are the interest
I find in life, my life’s surprise.
