Once again, I find myself at a crossroads, wishing for the scarecrow to point the way to Oz? He is nowhere to be found; and if he was ever there, he's left the field without me, and I've no idea which path of the yellow brick road he took. Somehow, I don't think he's coming back, and once again the decision is all mine to make.
There are endless forks in the road
whose choices forge the person we become. If we had more time to pause
and consider each, would we do better, end up wiser or fail to move
forward at all, stymied by the hesitation?
How many folks just sit and wait pacing a rut back and forth between the paths, never daring to risk either?