Under motionless skies,
I stand here,
More perplexed than usual,
I’ve lost my sense of direction,
Or perhaps purpose,

Surrounded by dirt roads,
In all conceivable directions
Twisting about each other like vipers,
Some lined with hellfire and caltrops,
Others with pine trees and skinwalkers,

No path onward is safe I fear,
Even those coated in glitter and sun,
Is this what being lost is?
No signposts to offer clarity,
So what do I do?

Take a step?

  1. watchfully πŸ™‚

  2. First one must discover that one is lost before one can be found.

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