Facing south, I forward turn
Marching down the grand road of promise
"Fate is with you," I'm told as I pass
the yellowed and wrinkled journeyman.

"You know where you are going, and yet you still go,"
said the man dressed in white and grey.
"You are filled with aplomb or you are a mighty fool,
Though the two are not quite dissimilar."

I stood and I listened as he spoke admonishingly -
Or rather, I let the words travel unabaited through my ears.
"'The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity...'
Old words, yes... But still they echo."

I tried to care; I tried to listen...
But my mind was locked on the rewards that lay ahead.
He knows where I am going; Nonetheless, he continues...
Out of love or obligation, I cannot be sure.

"You are as affected by my conviction as the ocean is the rain;
Still I will arm you with a sword you will foolishly cast aside:
Whatever you say, whatever you do, remember always -
You are yourself. That's all you are."

With a well practiced motion, he lifts his heavy hand...
He then lets it fall; a half-hearted salute that
Bids me pass on both his left and his advice -
An invitation I'm quite ready to accept.

I nod an acknowledgement and move right along,
Acting as he knew I probably would.
I trod along the road made of gossimer and glass;
Knowing fully that, one day, this moment would matter.