So many years I wandered those divergent paths,
those yellow woods, roads less traveled.
I slept, ached, wondered where it would all
end, when the sun might filter through the
trees to warm my shivering body. And now,
exhausted from my journey, standing
empty-handed, older, wiser, having lost so very
much and never daring to hope or dream again,
I feel something familiar in the air.
Have I been here before? Did I dream this?
Is this fullness I feel within and around me
another dimension of a road I’ve traveled before
in my most secret thoughts?
I say to you, o fate that has been so like a sword
in my heart these long years, if this is a dream
let me sleep but longer. Let me feel again, let me
feel what I have lost for so long, let me feel the
light and the heat of the sun as it streams through
the trees of the yellow wood. Let me lie in warmth
and remember what it was like to pause from
wandering, satisfied, and sleep naked in the grass.
And let me die before I wake.
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