The Beaten Path

For centuries, the path
Had served so many.
The rich had trodden upon it
And even those without a penny.

It wound for miles
And miles together
Be it sun, be it rain
No matter what the weather.

Sufferers of a conquest,
Entire villages had moved.
Creatures in search of fortunes,
Winged, shod or hooved.

Around mountains, carrying news,
Many messengers had raced.
Travelers and pilgrims
Sharing hardships they faced.

In darkness, around corners
The unlucky had bled.
For wealth and riches
Crimson blood had been shed.

The sun and the path
Only in autumn would meet.
Like on a cloudless starry night
Loving reunions, so sweet.

Long lost loved ones,
People set out to find.
Many a writer and poet,
Its beauty would bind.

And around an unsuspecting turn,
Behind a thicket of trees,
Was a beautiful lagoon
Rippling with the breeze.

The trees bore fruit
So vivid were the flowers
White and yellow songbirds
Would sing for hours.

It was a garden in heaven
That God himself had sown.
But alas!
Only if someone had known.

For going along the path
The people had become complacent.
The beauty of the path
Had doused all ambition.

For the lagoon existed
For years it had stayed.
But to waste had gone
The paradise God had made.

Now the well beaten path
Isn't always the right one.
If you don't risk and venture
You might miss all the fun.

People one step from paradise,
But afraid of the grave
Will always be one step away
For fortune favors the brave.