The target, the path and the trees FUTILE THINKING?

She asked me about my next target,  I said I didn’t know,  A target needs destination,  Destination needs a path.  I thought about trees,  And how they grow,  Some have fruit,  And some hold snow.

Abstract and metaphorically,  I saw the trees as paths,  One had leaves and apples,  One green through winter’s wrath.  The pretty apples fall and rot,  The tree looks lost and forlorn,  Its multitude of branches,  Give endless choice each dawn.  It grows and blooms again in spring,  Though dead through winter’s sting.

One stands tall, no fear of fall,  With only one direction,  It’s branches weep towards the floor,  The slip would be damnation?  Yet strong of will, it laughs at chill,  It’s straight and tall and rigid,  And once a year, we call him in,  To cheer our celebration.

To re-invent my target,  I need a destination,  To have that dream, I need a path,  To end procrastination.  The apple tree, its maze of paths,  its multitude of choices,  Leave room for fault and contemplation,  But choice fuels hesitation.

The spruce plods on,  With single aim,  No retrospective weeping,  The target reached it carries on,  Imagination skimping.

Which tree to choose,  Which path to take,  But first I need a reason,  To choose a path, without a cause,  Woud be quite aimless shooting.  This gives me choice, when last I see,  The target so elusive,  Choose intricate, or direct route,  I still must be incisive.