True North

Compass spins in circular reasoning
crossroads crisis missing signposts
maps mutilated from wrenched indecision,
noon's face reveals the alternative paths,
shines its illumined hints towards many tales.

Inclination's needle dulled
by lack of insight's sharpening stone,
trapped in treadmill lethargy,
sight blurred from squinting at horizons,
shoes scuffed along procrastination's curb
while taking excuse's potty break
in outhouse retreat behind denial's bush.

Heart pumps so loudly to walk,
to find the journey's oasis,
but one can never taste
it's destination's well
until mind decides
which North Pole of desire
will be the vision followed,
when one stops being preoccupied
with just watching someone else
stroll towards where their own
discovered truths.