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I
GOT LOST IN TIME
I got lost somewhere along
the crooked streets
and potholed trails,
wandering through winding,
empty avenues
where broken streetlights
hummed over rusted‑out cars
with shattered glass
and collapsed wheels.
some still smoldered
small red whispers of life
lifting into the air
and bruising the clouds.
Relics of a civilization
that once breathed purpose
waited for a new chance,
waited for a new day
but centuries of dust
fell over their bones
and softened their shame.
I drifted down Highway 66
and took the wrong turn,
as sages do,
as dreamers do.
I got lost somewhere along the
way,
caught between hope
and
inevitability,
between reason’s edge
and imagination’s pull.
I couldn’t cross
the trembling line,
too afraid to pluck the note
like a guitarist hesitant
to end his song,
fearful the frequency
might crack the tempo
and scatter the harmony.
Fear held me still,
locking my hands
from choosing right
or choosing
wrong
both paths calling,
both refusing me.
Life split into a thousand roads,
and my mind
tangled in a fisherman’s net
with no clear seam to cut free.
I could head north,
but the cold waited there
barren lands,
lifeless growth,
frozen lakes,
memories iced over
and unwilling to thaw.
What I had seen,
what I had sealed
in the glacial alcoves
of my mind remained untouched.
I could head south,
into the sweltering oasis
of burned‑out loves,
fired‑up pastures,
scorched trees.
No flowers dared bloom,
no buds dared rise.
Sweat and fear slid from my skin
as vapor rose
from the blistered
soil,
hissing reminders
of every chance
I squandered,
every foolish gamble
that left me in ashes.
The house always wins against the
gambler.
The house always wins on a
reckless bet.
I could head east,
down salted roads of depression,
malted liquor,
cocaine‑bright nights,
opium dens with velvet backrooms
whispering for one more high.
To chase my dragons,
to stay forever young
in a soft, drifting haze.
Hearing but not listening,
feeling but not understanding
the shadows that lengthened
as the years slipped quietly
into sin and the belief
that I did not belong in the
daylight world.
Somewhere
along that winding path
I misplaced my soul,
so east became forbidden ground.
I could head west,
like the early miners
chasing gold and promise,
mesmerized by the shining stone
that toppled Mayan cities
and crushed the Inca world
beneath conquistador greed.
Yet west felt open
a direction untouched,
roads wide and breathing
for a lonely wanderer
who had tried the other three
and failed to choose wisely.
Too afraid of the unknown,
too afraid to take chances,
too afraid to stop
and ask for directions
in a world of endless winding
roads.
Yes sir,
I got lost somewhere
along the way in life
but who hasn’t.
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WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS POEM:
The core meaning of this poem is that a person is looking back on their life and realizing they became lost—not in a single moment, but across many crossroads, temptations, fears, and emotional climates. It’s a meditation on direction, identity, regret, and the paralysis of choice.
Each direction is a psychological state, not a place.
North — emotional coldness, numbness, memories frozen in place
South — heat, passion, impulsive mistakes, the scorch of regret
East — addiction, self‑destruction, the seductive pull of escape
West — possibility, reinvention, the unknown future
