End Of The Road

By Thomas Thottungal

Winding through the wild woods of Time

There runs a lonesome trail called Life,

Hemmed in on either side by towering fears and doubts,

Shadowed by trials, tribulations and travails,

Till it peters out eventually to a dead end

In a vast expanse of unruly undergrowth.

On this lonesome track you sojourn

Burdened by your backpack of personal pain and failures

Till your bones grow weary and your mind grows numb.

Yet you trudge along till there’s no more to trudge.

Then you lay yourself gently down

To be covered in course by weeds and thorny thistles.

By Thomas Thottungal