A low rumble, a whistling howl,
The wind passes through his very soul,
Chilling to the bone,
Release, he could feel bits and pieces of himself being scattered,
He took one last gaze into the horizon,
The bright sunlight, the blazing heat,
It all felt so surreal to him,
Free at last.
A lingering want,
A desire that echoed within him,
A pursuit, a chase, without any sense of direction,
A seek for truth, without any sense of conviction.
Having arrived at crossroads, the path ahead was unclear,
Weighing all his options was out of the question,
Time simply wouldn't abide by his wishes,
It wouldn't allow any uncertainty,
So he chose to stand by and watch,
A passerby, not participant in a race against time.
Fate looms, it plays it's card,
A reddish glimmer can be seen at the edge of the path,
Gleaming, enticing one to come closer yet just out of reach.
He contemplates his unjust choice,
Irreversible perhaps?
The wait for the dust to settle, as a new dawn beckons.
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