Sometimes it’s a straight line,
the closest distance between two points.
But it’s not necessarily a flat line.
For some, yes, that’s true, but for others
angles of ascent and descent along the way
make the trip more complex.
More accurately actually, it may appear a straight line,
slanting up or down as tides encountered
work for or against the voyager,
but it’s so true that there are jogs off and about,
runnings around and veerings helter-skelter,
side treks in so many directions frantically followed
sometimes seeming all at once on a dead run.
Of the crossing from cradle to grave,
however chopped or glassy it may be,
one thing can be said for certain:
The entire journey from start to end’s
a shot through time like an arrow
let fly to lightning strike a target’s heart.