Crossroads

On the left side, I had a barren desolate landscape—
Crusted sands on dry land.
A hard road, with no inkling of direction,
An unknown destination, reeking of decay.

On the right side, I beheld flowery fields—
Surrounded by strong-standing trees, blossom-crowned.
A pleasant meandering path,
Intruding the deeper woods at the edge.

At this crossroad, I had to choose my path—
A choice that breaks no hearts, nor bones.
Tempting, almost luring, the trees whispered
Of treasures and bounty, of beauty and honey.

The desert held no sway, but a sense of foreboding—
A silent warning of hardships, of drought.
A mirror exposing one’s soul,
The little voice nagging, warning.

I looked at my shoes—sturdy leather, laced, prepared for toughness.
I checked the canteen—more than half filled.
Then I set foot on the path that I deemed best.

Immediately, it threw furious tantrums of Apollo’s scorn—
Nature’s breath coughing clouds of sand, but I endured.
Step by step against this utter rage,
Its anger almost flooding the air with abrasive sand.

I persisted on this arduous trail.
At times, tired, weakened, I almost faltered.
A clear path emerged—with promises,
Soothing honeyed whispers of nectar and the forest’s bounty.

Sighing, I persevered—
Strength seeping upwards from my toes,
As I took the next step.
Not in vain—bereft of water, strength on its last legs.

Then, I saw golden pinnacles,
Heard crystal-clear bells,
Colors bright and beautiful from meadows
With trees bearing fruit—
People raising their arms in invitation.

Then, a voice—pure as gold—
Words, heavenly words saying:

"Welcome to Nirvana."