Journeys

Lives are mapped in delicate lines
Of black and white, but mostly grey
Criss crossing borders can't be read
And I don't have the faith to pray.

This road's been travelled back again
I may have stopped a time or two
But in the end I tossed a coin
Not knowing what else I could do.

These paths converge, diverge-I'm split
Should I turn left or race to right?
Compass broken, I may be lost
And treetops shroud a starry night.