On one half the road the sun peaks over the horizon and looms over fog filled valleys. The red orange and pink glow of the flourescent wonder makes me squint a bit as I wander down the middle of the road. I look ahead and see only what I have seen for the past twenty years. A long, long winding road with many voids to the left and to the right. Half of the road harbours all the comforts of day. Singing birds, tall lush forest, a cool, comforting breeze blows through the branches of the lumbering giants. On the other half of the road lies a land that is far more dark.

In the distance lies a red moon, quite vast and ominous. It hangs in a starless sky, overlooking vast caverns and deep craveces. The land is pock-marked with ages of ware and tare. The trees that are ever present bare no foliage, no life in their many hands. They stand tall, broken and barren. This is an unforgiving place, a place that I care not to wander. In the distance a few wandering figures can be seen, standing, waiving their stringy lifeless arms in my direction.

I stop for a moment and look at them. I watch them as they waive to me, trying to rouse me from my trance. Some of them are crying, and oddly enough, some of them are laughing with a sort of gleem in their eyes. Sometimes they shoot hideous looks to the sobbing ones. Why are they so sad? Why are they over in that God foresaken place? Why can't they just leave? I have seen this all before however, and I have always asked the same questions. I turn and look back to the lush green of the forest behind, the far more peaceful side of the road. It's so enticing. To be in the free hands of the light, where everything is what it should be.

I begin to walk forward a bit, when that feeling hit. The feeling that will never bare an explination of its presence. I stood for a moment and thought. I looked down at the road where I stood in solidarity. there was not a visible line per say, but in the road where the two territories met there was a sort of energy. The light side of the road was vibrant with many color stones and small life scuttling about its smooth surface. The other a more black, shalen look. No life upon its surface. I could not bare to be where they are, and helpless they are not. I will show you. A hesitant foot lifted from the light, and staggered to the other side. Instantly I felt a heaviness on my body, my very soul. I pulled the other foot in and began my journey into the dark. You could see the wind. It was a dark haze that flew around everything, engulfing it. It was so strong that I had to bare foreward to brave it. The wind formed around my shape leaving trails in the distance, blowing fiercly. I will keep my promise.

I trudge forward to find those poor souls waiving. Come with me, come back with me where its better. Let me endure with you... Together we make our way back across the damned wasteland of depression. Onto the other side. These poor souls that were once crying and famished, are now youthful and happy. I watch from the darkness as they crossover to my side. When the last person is through, I step over and feel normal again. I take one last look upon those faces, and feel rejuvinated. With a newfound glory I proceed to walk my path, scanning the darkness for others. Other people that just need a little help.

In Closing....

This was one giant metaphor for what I believe is my ultimate goal. My ultimate desire. It is the reason I work my chosen field. It is the reason I choose to have no enemies, and to avoid confrontation at all costs. It is the reason I NEVER give up. Helping people is my path. My chosen path. What is yours? I chose the divided road thoery to show a couple things. There are those who dwell in the light. Always happy, always loving life and what it has to offer. There are also those who dwell in the darkness; whether it be by choice or by reason, they reside there. There are a few people that have chosen to live in both, constantly looking for those who need help. Helping others with their lives is what they do. I make it my duty to help those in need, in whatever form that I can, whether it be through music, writing, or my professional career as a paramedic.If I can make someone else's day a little easier, my path grows a little longer.

"Happiness always looks small while you hold it in your hands, but let it go, and you learn at once how big and precious it is."

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Amazing
No, I don't write for a living, I'm a paramedic lol. I'm flattered though thank you!

Lovely_MessXxx said:
Oh my gosh...I can literally feel the heat seep from this poem. How descriptive and calming. Is writing what you do for a living?
Sweet

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