Moving With Purpose

Mist like, veils of time slowly lift, showing a path that seems to drift, meandering as if by chance. Life's map, once scribed in youthful hues, now guides in ways I didn't choose. I attend skyward in askance. I knew my goal. I knew my way, yet somehow I have gone astray. Another's hand or just mischance? Do I follow or do I lead? as along the path I proceed, to some promised heavenly manse? I won't bemoan, whatever my fate, nor sing of my successes great. Instead, I will just enjoy the dance, moving with purpose, not adrift, thankful for the mapmaker's gift, a road to guide through life's expanse.