I GOT LOST IN TIME

 

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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