One's Travels
Andrew Muldow ney

What is life but a race?
But why a race,
for there are no places, there are no medals, no places.
Only a cold hand on your shoulder once it is all done.
This is why I left the main road long ago,
why race when it is pointless?
Those eager to finish are ones I care not to know.
I take the back roads and those less traveled,
and these have been the bliss of this race unto eternity.
Those finishing only for more to start.
If you want you may pass me,
be my guest to finish quicker, if its your liking to be the first,
you may.
My roads will not allow me to waste such precious steps at the forefront,
that place is for the ignorant and short coming,
I have no need for the edges, the ledges or the main road,
my path leads me to the far sides, to the easy, difficult the soft and the hard.
and as i travel I will find nary a soul who will follow,
and yet I am never alone in my travels,
as the path itself my guide and companion.
I shall finish this the way I started.
Once is all said and done I will not be the one wishing for the back roads and those less traveled,
for I was the one who took those roads,
and that has created what I know as life.