The Predictable End

I stepped out onto the street today; the cool wind enveloped my face and hands. I ask, which direction to go, again you fail to answer. It seems to me that all roads end up at the same destination. Then why bother? I've been down them all, the journey never enjoyable, the path never smooth. All too easy just to turn and walk back in. Resign one's self to silky solitude where all is predictable. Perhaps this time will be different, maybe this time I'll stumble upon an epiphany. Either way, I guess it's the experience that defines us.