I’ve Had This Drink Before

The aspirations of youth
become the bitter material
of frustrated adulthood

the glass half-full
is now empty at your lips
the dross of your dreams
floating in the disconsolate river
of incertitude

This brief sojourn
of the soul
fraught with impossibilities
fleeting glimpses
of what could have been
obfuscated by what is

(the labyrinth of the mind
is a cage where the truth is difficult
to discern)

There are days of ineffable
despondency
when desolate
fields burned by the frost
of winter
are far more appealing
than the sap burgeoning
ecstasy of incipient spring

days that fill you with
the ice of death encroaching upon
the lingering of your soul

Do we choose destiny
or does destiny choose us?

(the path less traveled by is
now
a super highway
stuffed with humanity)

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