After a long absence, poetry

How impersonal and cold the crossroads are, staring at me silently and stoically showing me the choice is to be made

One of three, the straight road which clearly opens to reveal the rocks and pitted path or the road that curves into the stand of trees that obscure what I will encounter or to go back. 
Each with it's own fate and consequence. 

Not only my own fate but the fate of those I love.  Should I choose the dark and unknown it will mean detours and heavy machinery as those around me must alter to the decisions I make. 
How can I do this when so much is at stake?

Do I dare to take the chance?  To dash into the darkness where dragons may wait?  Dragons that will breathe fire at me, blind me with smoke that waters my eyes and chokes me while it's iridescent scales glow with the pleasure of it. 

My courage is all but gone.  My bravery is shrinking behind the shelter of that which is safe. 

But is it safe?  No, none of this trio is safe.  My selection will thrust me into a new state of being.  What on earth will I wear?

If the best part is the jumping, as I have been told, standing on the edge, teetering out over the chasm before pinwheeling arms to come back to the crumbling surface is the worst.

I study the absence of a signpost and prepare to jump.

And prepare to jump.

And prepare to jump.