Sculpting destiny

Wading in the shallow pools of sorrow
never seen summer,nor heard spring
of withered leaves and shrivelled trees
illusions are all that one can cling to
of songbirds and their tunes of joy
of eternal springs and pristine streams
that water plethoric beds of violets and daffodils
seeping through to the undergrowth
and granting eternal hope for those yet to bloom
the very soul of dreams and beyond
fraught with pretentious perils and shallow temptations
enticing pain and ecstacy with its double edged blade
gilded with jewel stones of courage and fear
each vision chosen by the eye with its natural perspective
of paramount importance lay the choices we make
and the paths that leads us to glory or perdition
to enchanted woods or arid wastelands
falter in action but never in consent
blame shant fall on fellow pedestrians
but on the vote cast by the mind without the heart
never flinch for choice is inevitable
in all its sadistic glory it shall prevail
'twill be a worthy fellow traveller if not a guide
that equips us for sculpting our destiny