This Time

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During this time on the earth
I laugh and cray and sigh in
A manner not unlike my own, and yet
I follow that which the world is here
And think a different road into existence.
The trouble remains, which path to follow
Upon, I know not and yet each path
Becomes, or maybe reveals, clearer each
Day. There are two, and the world appears clearer
And truer, but is it really? A clear path seems to
Me to be evil, for it is easy and paved with
mediocrity. Yet the way I contrive is not liked by
the world, yet it is conceived of the world. How
does one choose between the truth as one knows
it and the truth of the whole?


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