How do you come close to an idea?

There's a path, but you're not sure where it leads you -
or maybe, how it will get you there.
Where?
Anywhere, really.

You look up and all you see is darkness -
no light, no stars, no supernovas
in the distance,
just complete isolation from the universe.

But you hear things.

And you wish you could understand this foreign language of whispers,
the kind that raises your awareness of your surroundings.
They raise their own decibels as you walk more into the path.

And suddenly, you see.

It isn't a light.
You still wish to see one,
but instead, you see the ocean - the echo of all living things.

Water. It was the water that has been speaking to you.
The waves congratulate you for your bravery to come to the end of the path.

You turn around to return, but the path has gone.

So, like a wandering child, you patiently look at the sky to dream;
a staircase falls upon the curtain of your vision.

You step up, but you are reluctant, scared that the path will disappear again.
Or that you can't come back down.

Retreat.
You retreat and rewind.
You settle down.
You close your eyes.
You lie upon the soft earth to listen to the steps you've never taken.