As my body reclaims the surface of the water,
I open my eyes to find myself before the fate of my father.
Treading in the waters of choice and fate,
Is it cowardice to swim back toward the cobblestone path,
where moss of consequence has crept through every cracking crevice.
Or to swim near shore, and let the sand warm my cold feet,
but certainty oscillates like a wind-chime in doubt.
The ripples propel me to choose a path.
The sole of my foot beds into moist sand.
Whether this be my first or second life,
should I trust providence to bloom beneath my feet?
Will she serenade me toward the path in which I’ve yet to commit?
Through her honeyed voice, the present calls to me.
I stare at my father as he drinks his black tea,
and start to wonder.. if that will ever be me.