Where leads a path long forgotten?
Its comings and goings
consumed in earthen appendage.
Beneath its long-beaten form
the voice of chaos cries out,
desiring a return to the way things were.
Before form was possibility,
Before decision was choice,
Before structure was beauty.
These things will return,
But not yet.
For now there is just a path,
with a beginning and an end.
And choice-
decayed,
remains.