I have cultivated a dead-end. A beautiful, wonderful, marvellous dead-end, but a dead-end nonetheless.

I left the main path a long time ago. It runs parallel to this, closely enough that I can glimpse it through the trees, but crossing to it would be at such a great cost that I doubt I'll ever attempt it.  Yet there it lies, and here I stand, thwarted. In glory, but thwarted.
I knew it as I chose this route. Knew it, yet drove on, regardless.

Stay, burning in the light I can never share?
Forsake the light, go back, and rejoin the path?
Plunge into the undergrowth?
Hope?