When he stands on the isthmus of two diverging path.
Gleaming road seems like an English wine.
Gloomy way appears like a deadly crime.
Hangs between skepticism and faith.
Mesmerized by those beauteous flower.
A being painfully beautiful and sweet sorrow.
And hence, stroked by those holy fears like an arrow.
Then, remorse takes its shapes and decays his power.
Thoughts and passion all confused.
By those thorny bushes, he got abused.
Still by himself created to rise.
But captured by the muddled side.
Shallow drinking defamed by the sword.
And in poverty, he remains coward.
Again intoxicated by those cruel.
In endless error, he left befool
Inspired from: William Blake’s poem (The Human Abstract )~ Romantic Age