Where are you on The Path?
Certain of where the forest leads,
or do you wander just like me,
searching for hidden beauty in the leaves,
whose venous prints reach out to touch
your hushed presence in the
moist brown underbrush?
And if you listen to that spacious math
what do you hear?
The sound of all those compost ghosts
you tread on while you were
young and free and brash?
Or is it the coronation of peace
that enfolds you in the canopies arms
of skyward reaching majesty?
And do you see the white light gleam
that floods the floor like a halogen beam
speaking to your core saying Evermore?
Perchance your eyes are closed
like two tight doors.

Written by Sara Fielder © Mar 2014