Knowing
myself
my quest
my path
towards
a one hundred and forty-two
point two
blaze
hung
high
in the forrest
of me
I steady
myself
against
the damp
mossy
bark
of
a
tall
tree
one
much
taller
than
me
and find my balance
but what if
this path
familiar
yet
overgrown
with root and rot
snarls and snaps
beneath
my feet
an invitation
to fall
to fail
to forget
Yet
that
grail
calls me
out
I hear it
in the foghorns at night
in the crow song at dawn
in the breathy cadence
of my footfall
as I run
the coastal trail
in the pounding hiss
as waves
hit
and
retreat
back into the oneness of the sea
I ask
What do I hear
by a mountain stream?
What do I hear
in the hours
before dawn
when the streets are empty
and the city sleeps?
what do I hear
when I say, "I am"
to a soul I have
just met
I say
I am
enough
Beautiful
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