Choices

I’m drawn toward the crusty, clanging gate
While only yards ahead, an easy wall
stands stalwart, sturdy, rock on rock, in wait
for someone just like me, to heed the call.

A metaphor for problems that befall
and plague our humdrum, hapless times,
To heed the beck’ning of the wrought-arch portal,
Or opt instead, for rigid, rock-stacked climb.

It’s hard to know which way would yield sublime
returns, suspecting welcomes may be traps,
Perhaps it’s better to advance unseen,
And thus avoid a perilous mishap.

My caution is a fault, yet I believe,
Our choices matter, once they are conceived.

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