Shall I take this step to further
my advance to the pavement yonder,
or rather end this indignant saunter
against this day, this day I ponder.
The merchant trading wine of hope
at this end has beguiled me too,
tasteless it stood in elope
unto my palette, famished grew.
I hear salvation tastes the best,
sold when aged with despair,
yet bought it is the dearest lest
sweetest affluence fails to care.
Shall I venture this walk of fate
to greater hopes from broken dreams
I can not know until too late
it is to change this walk it seems.
Shall I cease but for a while,
have not these eons burdened years,
and despair come in bleak exile
thus made salvation rest so near.
Shall I turn to where I came
from and to where I need return,
what can not I have, so I feign
I can not lose, so do I spurn.
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Poems & People 
“Salvation comes most easily to those who can afford it, for we live in times of prospects and walls. As for me? I can neither afford it, nor covet it the slightest, my imagination is my salvation, as that which I can not have, I can not lose, it is the wine that tastes the sweetest in my dreams.”
Quite true as when we create visions we tend to find our way toward them, but on those off occasions when we misplace our vision we tend to find the snares, which is never a total loss as snares make for good writing material.
Indeed, thank you Donna.