thoughts from a mountain stream

with no careful thought or existential crisis, the river flows,
taking the path of least resistance.
no one tells it where to go,
nor does it spend long hours deciding.
rather, it simply meanders,
residing in the wake of that which came before,
carving the way for that which will come after.

nor do i, as i walk along a forest trail, ever question
how the path was beaten down, or who found its direction.
the journey paved a thousand times over is safe,
for it is certain to lead to a pre-approved place.

but what is more safe than a forest trail? how about more solid roads, of pavers, asphalt, or concrete? each leads somewhere certain, laid out before me in straight lines, like a grid. every destination is already known, every path both plotted and plodded. all questions of the unknown dissipate into the mechanical steps of a trip already taken many times. every step is so certain, it need not be questioned, only mindlessly enacted again and again and again.
i know every sound here.
i recognize every sign.
i understand what everything signifies.
and my mind is a computer, full of circuits and grids.
and i come to the conclusion i'm neither alive nor dead.

thoughtlessly, painlessly, flows the river,
yet in my heart, i know i must differ.
to step off the well-worn trail has become imperative.
though pain is probable and none go before me,
i must step into the unknown,
and by finding something new, know that i have grown.