Now is made up of a million past choices

Of words we said that opened hidden doors

Of words left unspoken that indirectly closed them

Of leaps into the dark with a miraculous landing

Of tiny steps in broad daylight leading to free-falling.

Not a soul among us would refuse an offer to go back

To say the words, take the leaps, close the doors,

But even if we could, dear soul, would we trade today?

Maybe we could rewrite our stories without pain

Rearrange the stars to align in our favor

But would life carry the same meaning to us

Without the errant turns and heartbreak?

Maybe life is less of a product of our actions

And more of an interactive learning space

Where all roads lead us back to now.

Published by Quietest Poet

Writer, mother, counselor, flower gardener, recipe seeker, and Netflix lover.

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