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The yellow brick road which I walk yet my destination unknown

Curious if I’ve been on this path before?

Curious what’s to come, but do I ever consider what is no more?

What has come and gone will not need a song to be remembered

It was, and that is enough

I’m comfortable with the road, coarse and rough

It is human in its ups and downs

Joyous smiles and tragic frowns

Over hills and through dark valleys my journey takes me

I will have moments of pride, shame, none which make me

I am not my moments but a sum of their entirety

A measuring tape I do not need

The measure of myself in the shadow of others cannot make me bleed

My path is my own, yellow, brick, more often alone

I grow strong as the days grow cold

I feel more alive in each moment I grow old

My bank account will rise and fall

I will catch, more often than drop the ball

My home is my sanctuary

My heart is my life savings

An accumulation of the moments and faces I love

The smiles, dismay, and aspirations hovering above

Not quite within reach

But always close enough to recount and teach

Of the ways of the past

The ways of the present

The different men that I know I will not be because I resent

There makeup as a human or something more foreign

The reflection that would have seized my life if I had seen when I woke and looked in the mirror this morning

My reflection is my own

Into my skin, over the years, I have grown

It suits me well

For others- it could be hell

But today is mine and tomorrow as well

Wishing the path of another, is most certainly hell.