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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