Crossroads on a Long and Broken Road

I’ve been looking around lately, at all the things other people have done and seen, famous people who have passed on I would have given near anything to meet.  Thinking about the chances I’ve missed.  All the choices I could have made or made better and didn’t.

I have led a life of self imposed exile for the most part, living at the fringe, on the edge,  in the shadows watching, listening, but rarely if ever participating.  It’s not that I don’t have opinions.  I have opinions on almost any subject you can imagine and many you can’t but I never imagined anyone much valued them, so I kept quiet…in the shadows…on the fringe.

That’s a choice that’s harder to unmake than you might think, when and if you come to regret it.

It’s not all bad, nothing ever is if you look at it long enough and hard enough. There are things I know, things I’ve learned, things I understand, wisdom I might never have gained any other way.

My regret, the real one, the one that matters, is that I have not yet capitalized on these things the way I could have, should have, planned to, and time grows shorter every moment-every minute every day.

I suppose the time to put up or shut up passed a long, long time ago, but I am stubborn and I have not quite given up just yet.

I still haven’t a clue if anyone anywhere gives a rat’s ass what I have to say.  The wisdom I could share Ideas that may not have crossed their minds regardless of their questionable value.

And so what if they don’t?  Is the wisdom any less wise for that and that alone?

My life has been a series of crossroads, paths taken and untaken.  I imagine that’s true of anyone and you can never really truly judge the merit of the road map you leave behind until you stand at that very last crossroad, make that very last choice and look back on a life, well lived or not.  Was it all worth it…or not?

There’s a lot of fog on the road these days, fear and doubt wondering if I choose the right path or wondered too far in to the dark wood.  Even as I write this, I’m getting older, closer to the end of the story and it’s getting easier and easier to envision a dark ending.

The time has come to embrace the path right or wrong to move forward with bold strides and see what comes in the misty lands ahead.  I think I’ve passed the point of no return.

Write, write and write some more.  Write until your fingers bleed and your soul weeps its very last tear.

And if the world doesn’t give a damn, so be it.

I make no claims to greatness, not now, not ever, but how many great men and women lived to see their own greatness embraced in their lifetimes.  For those who did not, did there greatness shine any less bright in the final analysis when the future world looked back on them and wondered from their own crossroads if the life of a great thinker, great artist or humble servant of the people was worth it?

I shall resolve to stride  forth boldly  pen in hand and try to make  more noise than a quiet  little mouse in the shadows waiting for the world’s applause.

And will the world be better for this that one man, scorned and covered with scares still strove to make the world a slightly better place?

Perhaps.  Perhaps not.

But my heart will lie peaceful and calm when I’m laid to my rest a few less regrets to weigh it down when they come to measure its weight against a feather.