The Chosen Path

            One job that will change my life,

 One job that could give me a chance.

 A chance to not struggle,

A chance to not drown,

A chance to make a difference in someone else’s life.

The two paths, right in front of me, glimmer in the light.

One, to the left, is but a shortened loop.

 It drags, it drowns, it is never changing.

The second one, to the right, will change my life forever.

                But that path, I know, will not be easy.

That path, full of demons, is rugged. Rough. And difficult to capture.

The green to cross it is not so common,

The demons, they speak in hushed whispers in my head and tell me “you can’t do this, you’re too scared”.  

They comment on the lack of greenery,

 As they deteriorate the plow in my hand.

They crush.

They stab.

They cover the path in darkness.

            That darkness, however, never stays long,

There are angles here,

Above the clouds.

And the angles bring me light, and lift me up.

They fight the demons and reconstruct my plow.

They make it new, and better in every way. 

They shine their light down in front of me and tell me to believe.

They dress my wounds,

 They give me life,

 They keep me going on.

           And I know at the end of this path is my goal,

 My dream.

 The fight between the demons and angles will rage on and on,

As I travel down my chosen path.

 But I will go on,  

In the storm and the calm,

 Just to get there one day.