It was all a big blur back then but you
Moved as if you knew what you were doing.
Maybe you thought you did. You had no clue,
Of mysteries the future was brewing.
Every step led somewhere you could not know.
Running blind on sage brushed chaparral hills,
California sun. It was enough to go,
With no idea where. The random thrills,
Falling in love, a moment or a year
A new job, a new friend, a journey. “This
is the ONE!” but it wasn’t. Shed some tears
and keep running. The hard hills listened.
Now you know there is no plot. No sacred shrine
With answers. The trail itself is life’s line.
This is a Shakespearean sonnet, more or less. 14 lines, ababcdcdefefgg. Iambic pentameter (10 syllable lines with the stress on every other syllable, but I’m not a fetishist about that). The final six lines are supposed to set up a situation established by or counter to the first 8 lines. I’m not big on rules, though, other than the rhyme and syllable thing. I’m writing sonnets as a mental challenge, mostly, but once in a while one might be good. I started writing sonnets when I realized I just don’t have much more to say in one of my customary blog posts at the moment.