Hushed black street
Before my eyes poses
Misty narrow alley
Unattuned to my solid soles.
Nippy sensations into my cranium sink
Stacks of tremulous quiver
As I halt like stiff tall trunk of a rad old oak
With a stirring of dreadful doubts
To propel onwards or backwards.
Intuition tarries at crossroads;
Should I repel footprints or tread
A path unknown alone?
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