Wilderness

Would that the wilderness of my future was

Truly trackless, smooth as glass from pole to pole.

No mark or indication as to previous passages,

Of what had gone before; when, where, with what purpose.

Instead the horizon is littered with good intentions.

The “how abouts” the “maybe sos”

The rough drafts, false starts, blank pages.

The detritus of my indecision 

Abandoned for lack of time or passion.

They stare with mute accusation.

And so? What now? Excuses set aside?

Perhaps a true fresh start. 

Refreshed expectations of accomplishments.

Thoreau’s wildness implies wilderness

Implies tracklessness.

Smooth as glass from pole to pole.

Superconductive exploration.

Excitement in a new wilderness 

Of the soul.