Walking

From that which had become a norm had changed,

And those around it just seemed to become gray,

For what is worth the compassion of another,

Or what may become of those with dreams attained,

With all the words to summon the courage is to not speak them,

Is to feel the aching the in the pit of one's stomach,

As if taken to the ground by something which should hold no force,

Yet with the blow,

In the moment of panic with the endeavor,

Nothing seems clearer then the goal which has been set before you,

Through try as one might,

Patience is a virtue and thus must be treated in the way that is necessary,

To take action may not always be the way,

Find a path that may be more direct then other,

To wonder what may present when taken,

Is a mystery all until that path is walked,

To each one's own,

That which will not dither is one of the truth be told