There is no path to follow
but there are footsteps
it's hard to see through the fog and brush
some of those prints
may be from yourself
just going back the way you came
around and around, like a game
You have to make your way
The branch that sticks you
will be your weapon,
the bug that that bites you
will fill your stomach,
the dark that blinds you
will train your intuition
the fangs that scare you
will teach you to defend yourself
just as the cold that surrounds us
draws us to move forward
the lonely desolation teaches us
to value human kind and companionship
the trees that block our perception
will teach us to climb
and once we look at this and find
the simple beauty
we will be happy.