A trail laid before him; dark and foreboding. Brambles grew up and over, blocked out the sun, the joy, and left a gloom. And he foresaw misery. No; that was not the way for him.
He raised his face to the sunlight, then followed its warmth to a patch of flowers -- vibrant and pastel, all joy and light -- he could make his own way. With careful steps, he picked his way through the Primrose Path and knew he would have a life of his own making.