Good and bad,
Right and wrong,
Where do they become
Two different concepts,
Two separate paths?
The line is faded,
Worn,
Hard to make out.

What if you place
Your foot one inch
Over the line,
Just one inch
Into unknown territory?

Than two,
Than three,
Than a foot;
Slowly you tiptoe forward,
Silent and wary,
Trying not to disturb
The dust of the past,
Until your whole body
Is over the line.

You wait;
Wait for the lightening bolt
To stike you down
Where you stand,
But nothing happens.
You cringe in anticipation
Of the earthquake
That will erupt across
Your mind,
And leave ripples
Of change,
Branding your forehead
With the word BAD,
But it does not come.

Instead the realization
hits you like a truck,
knocking you off your
Carefully planned road;
Nothing has changed.

The line was fake,
A false reality
Created by your mind,
In order to fool yourself
Into thinking that you were sane,
But in reality,
You crossed that line long ago,
Without ever realizing
That you had changed.