He cautiously stepped through the towering entrance,
And peered through the clearing haze.
And he had to admit to himself all things considered.
It was a very beautiful maze.
He passed many people along the way.
Some going in the opposite
direction
He stopped to talk with a few.
Most didn't have much to say.
But no matter who they were, or where they were going.
Each one in his grip held tight,
A peculiar torch that lit their path.
He noticed some were dim, and some were bright.
So it went on like this for awhile.
He saw many strange happenings.
People who wore nothing but rags,
And those who owned many
things.
Then one day it happened,
He saw by his torch's light,
That his path had now broken and become two.
One to the left, and one to the right.
Many cruel voices told him to turn left.
It grew so that his light began to dim in fear.
Till he heard someone lovingly whisper,
"It's this way,
Come this way,
Turn here."
So he trusted in the voice, and turned right,
And though faltering in his step through the years,
He always tried to listen to the whisper when it said,
"It's this,
Come this way,
Turn here."
Sometimes when he came to two roads,
He'd stop and take a seat.
So he could talk to the passing people,
And try and find a good friend he could meet.
But for every good friend the time came for them to part.
Until one day a girl turned his way,
And listened with her heart.
Because you see for years to come,
She'd travel the same road as him,
And she seemed to know the roads ahead,
And remember where she'd been.
Then one day the boy turned to her,
And asked why they traveled the same,
But he found that he had already known the answer.
When the answer finally came.
The girl shyly shook her head,
"You wouldn't believe me if I said.
But you see there's this whisper that I hear,
Saying it's this way,
Come this way,
Turn here."