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    Its not a fork in the road. I passed that long ago. I can still remember where it was but I can’t go back. That other road has been erased by the rains and snow. There are trails that lead out from the road but eventually they lead back, if I care to return and don’t linger too long. I can hear people on these trails and sometimes spot a merry band of travelers to my side.

    The road I’m on suits me fine though the travel makes me erratic. I sometimes stay up long nights making sure I stay on the path. Other times I the ride is easy and I can sleep in the saddle. I know my goal but I can only see so far ahead of me. I can see the ease of the other travelers, people for whom the road holds no more secrets and the way is set for them. 

    I can continue this way alone if need be. But whats the use of gathering stories from the road without a soul to share them with. So I will take to the trails if only for a short time and join those merry bands.  I’ll share a tale and a laugh with some companions once again.  But always pointed towards my goal.