The fuel gauge read three quarters full
when I began to sit and mull
the trip thus far and how it'd been;
The where, the why, how, and when.
One quarter tank I had used
and already I felt much abused.
I had seen and done many things.
This car of mine had many dings
dents, scratches, and a fair bit of rust
not to mention a good coat of dust.
Some would say the trip had just begun
and I need to relax and have some fun.
Some claimed I had fuel enough to reach the end,
a wonderful place where I could spend
many days in tranquility and peace.
A place where I could find a whole new lease
on life itself and the meaning of,
where I could soar with ease of a dove.
All claimed they knew the trip was long,
and that to make it I must listen to the song
the radio plays constantly
that it alone will set me free
and make this drive bearable
erase from mind the hysterical
maddening images I have seen
and the terrible places I have been.
But none do know the route I took
to arrive at this point where I overlook
the trip behind me and the journey ahead
and the other route I could take instead.
I could abandon this car and the journey of others
set out on foot and join my brothers
and sisters who wander the countryside
who realized the end wasn't worth the ride.
But three quarters full the gauge is reading
and though it's easy to be self defeating
I have enough curiosity left inside
to travel a few more hours of this ride.