The wanderer was becoming more conscious as he crept ahead in years and began to discern two roads before him...
The first was an interstate highway where mobs of like-minded travelers were swept along in a ceaseless cycle of struggle and survival in order to reach a vague destination purported to lie just around the next bend. He noticed that the road's obstacles helped produced confidently opinionated individuals who seemed to have all the answers but, only to unimportant and trivial questions. They reminded him of automatons as they offered unsolicited stories and advice regarding their experience along the way. But, to him, the stories they told rang hollow. Candy-coated in embellishments and superficiality, he found them void of hope and sustenance.
The second road was unpaved. Narrow sections of unkempt grass and ancient trees casting dark shadows offered little solace for companionship. Nevertheless, he could hear the lonely beauty of this path speak to his heart. He noticed the sporadic flow of individuals appeared weathered and weary on the outside, but had eyes that smiled revealing a quiet wisdom and contentedness. These travelers had stories too, but a disconnect with society destined most of them to take their experience to their graves. Perhaps a lack of interest in exploring their depth or they were just unready to embrace the truth.
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