Which Choice?

I walk along this pebbled road once more, like many a time I’ve wandered here before.
The grass is dotted with lines of flower and stone, telling tales of those who wandered all alone. 

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Some spent their life on nothing but labour, to exceed the status of every neighbour. Each year passing with cunning and guile, left the poor soul bereft of their smile. 

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Can we break free from the tyranny of the masses? To pierce and overcome the boundary of classes. To solemnly enjoy what Nature can bring? Breaking free, letting our voices sing. 

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Here I now sit, overlooking this field.
Truth has come, it has been revealed.
My accomplishments have wilted, my possessions are worn.

The choice I once made, a choice I must mourn. 

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There my old friend lies, happy was she.
Her choices were different, a home by the sea.

And so, at the end, chiselled in stone.
“Loved and was Loved,” is growth on its own.