I gaze across the mill pool of the past.
The ripples of events dropping into life, spread out
Their interactions line up as dots on a line
Precisely forming straight lines
The path unwavering
The other way one looks,
chaos of choice and consequence
a thicket of tangled brambles
the fruit alluring amongst the sting of thorns
The tranquility of now,
the gentle warmth, a glow
no regrets in the present
no worry in the current
Which way to go, the path unclear
to step out, we must
to trust, we have no choice
to know, looking back
the events, joined dots will form
and so we step and trust we must
there is no other way
