Pondering

Sometimes I like to go to the park late at night, as it is right now. I sit on the swings and sway gently back and forth. Stare at the moon, the stars, the silhouetted trees blowing gently in the wind. One can transcend reality, if they aren't too careful, and slip back to the time of youth. When playgrounds and swing-sets held our fancy. It only lasts a little while; the cold breeze on your cheek startles you back into reality. You're much older now, and so much has transpired.

There were many paths back then, all open and inviting. Just waiting for us to choose. And choose we did. So many decisions led to so many paths, until we arrived finally at the place we are right now. Did we choose the right path? Have we arrived at the right destination? Who can say, who can say.

And what does the future hold? Maybe wrong paths of the past paved the way for right paths of the present. Or of the future.

Do we stay on our path, stuck in our current familiarities? Do we branch out, take a risk, take a chance? Would it work out if we did? Who can say, who can say. We will never know what may be if we don't try. There's comfort in the familiar, to be sure. So comforting that sometimes it's hard to imagine anything different. To trust in anything different.

The stars shine dimly within the city. Too much interference. The moon doesn't mind, it's a lone beacon in the vast darkness. Showing a course, lighting the way. Why do I suddenly feel so poetic? Who can say, who can say.

Just pondering. And now it's time for bed.