Straying...

Wandering feet with a will of their own,

Lead away from roads of stone.

Over a desert of broken hopes and dreams,

Past graves and scattered bones.

The trodden road of risk free gain,

That helps men avoid all pain,

Always remains at the edge of sight,

A mocking mirage in the rain.

Folks who stray get a second chance,

To stop their misled advance,

But hardly any move back to the herd,

They move on with defiant stance.

The ones, who leave, go away for good,

Their will stays firm as wood,

They stumble and fall but falter not

While their motives are misunderstood.

No one can bear these strange folk,

So eager to throw off their yoke,

Desperate to find their own true selves

They move on through fire and smoke.

Straying into what seems utterly wrong

These fools still plod along,

On lonely paths with no end to them

They’re lured by siren songs.

Making a way on desire and whim

Their passion is filled to the brim

Unhindered by scorn they ever move on,

Their future though likely is grim.

There is no safety on the uncharted way

Nor guide to keep trouble at bay,

But adventure, thrill and a chance to succeed,

Is found on the paths of the stray.