Standing upon the rise,
I turn to the way I have come.
Oh, what a straight-path surprise,
To see a slave and his one-way thumb.

How I have raged at those
Whose lives are spent in belief taut
That encountered weed or rose
Is, of some external hand, the result.

Yet here upon the rise,
The non-detoured road I can see.
Yes, it stands before my eyes:
The destiny which has escaped me.

There has been no meandering,
No chaotic steps to my path;
No veered flights in broken wing;
Nothing altered through gift nor through graft.

Just adherence I see,
From point A to Z without slap.
Delusion, the self-charged fee;
Passion and pain? Destiny’s road map.

Above she is waiting;
Above her the peak, stoic, proud.
She smiles, nothing debating.
I go to her, as fate has allowed.

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...