~ Maelstrom ~

Early spring, the water froze. Touch of winter lingers, adding the cold to the morning sun.
Eyes drifted from shore to shore. Wondering, pondering, of nothing in particular.
The cross road is still there. Waiting, ready to be chose. Decide or wait?

Early spring, the air still chilled. The ray spreads among the haze, the winter haze.
Mind travels, faster than the speed of light. But still have no clue, on what, or where.
The cross road lay still. Like a booby trap. Ready to be sprang. Swallow it’s pray, as a whole.

Now, why?
What and where...

I can see it clearly, the present
I can think of it clearly, the present
But the future is in God's hand

Then, why?
What and where...

The crossroad
Of opportunity