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“Tiny trails

Spiraling out

Of this shaded wood;

Going down to

Different paths.


That path goes

To that mountain yonder

Lush, green and inviting;

This leads to

The town in distance

Busy, gleaming and bustling.


That one goes

To the village near

Ploughed fields on both sides;

And that one

Leads to the frontier

Dreamy in distant trysts.


But this path

They say

Leads to nowhere;

Silence hangs on it

Deep, dark and bare.


No one is seen

On it ever;

But the path is there

Going down

They say to nowhere.


It’s the path

They say

Which is walked in darkness;

When all are sleeping

And none is moving.


Few have traveled

This path

But all paths;

They say are there

Because of this path to nowhere.”


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