Follow The River

I say the way is right around the corner, but at some point I must admit I’m lost in the jungle. Grey grim realities grip down upon my being. Parables predicted this profound predicament. Shaded paths choked by a covered canvas so not a speck of sunlight sneaks through. No stars to assist in my seeking of safety. Dark days of doom have dealt my dome disaster. It’s etched and engraved in the bark of the trees surrounding me.