Of the Trail that Goes in the Direction We Find Ourselves Going
We are told that if we get lost
we may very well start going
in circles. That we will end up
where we started and begin to
worry if we will ever return
safely to shelter before dark.
We will begin snapping at one
another and complain about
our shoelaces and how they
never stay tied for long enough.
The sun will descend beyond
the one ridge and we will come
to fully understand the importance
of layers. And water, which
we will start to sip, realizing
how little we have left. Hours
later we will be found dazed.
Or not found at all. (Those
noises in the underbrush not
just of our imagination.) How
fortunate, then, to be on this
trail that only ever goes in
a circle, that takes the shape of
our eventual failure so that we
are not reminded of our ineptitude.
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