Born into this world, a journey unasked,
In lands unknown, in sunlight basked.
No say in the start, in the cradle of fate,
Yet as we grow, we navigate.

From the first cry to the final breath,
We weave our path through life and death.
No choice at birth, in the place we start,
But choice blooms forth from the heart.

Through valleys low and mountains high,
Underneath the vast, endless sky,
The roads we take, the turns we choose,
In the grand dance of win and lose.

In the end, when we look behind,
A tapestry of paths intertwined,
The places we've been, the sights we've seen,
Crafted by choice, not by gene.

From the cradle's hold to the final scene,
Life's not just what might have been.
It's the journey taken, the roads explored,
In the endless quest of life adored.

So remember this, in the twilight's gleam,
We are not just products of a birthtime dream.
But architects of the paths we've roamed,
In the story of life, beautifully combed.

January 18, 2024
Created by
Mark wakdrop