Crossroads

There is this knowledge; it tempers a feeling of impotence. I cannot hide from it nor capture its strong odor - a whiff merely, enough to see the beast there lurking. But even I, the hunter, can never fully tackle this quarry: life and death, meaningless existence. In some ways like the great elephant hunters of old, I feel the fear and humility of my actions. I see them in the eyes of the hunted, accumulated and extinguished, and under the great gray lids, death rides. A man slays the beast, the beast humbles the man. In the end, when all debts have been paid, the sum of life tells. How did you measure up? What was your bounty in life? Did the low road lead you to deceitful paths or did you take the high road, with no guarantee? The knowledge that I hold is that of my direction, a crossroads, to which end I am left to speculate, but entrust that my efforts towards the high road will continue not in vain. This boredom I take as penalty for my laziness at least for a time. Eventually it spurs me forward, to do.