my orientation, pixelated on the small screen, tells me where to go.
like pavlov's dog, a ping rings and i obey.
                                                           ­   foggy nights, nature plays her role.
  coordinates escape as the device lethargically reroutes my landscape.

"follow me", SHE insists, british accent and all,
redirecting my already adjunct journey.
"you have arrived at your destination".
                       what does that mean? is this the place?
must be.

a child born or circumstance coerces my mind to meander and i move.
always and forever to the tune of progression.
not understanding infinity, the boy smiles, relinquishing my worry.
he does not yet know these depths his daddy will wander the world seeking HIS peace for the sake of my solitude.

I am merely a speck on a flea living on a fish in a vast sea.
he, the lighthouse, guides me through these deep dark waters.
as the waves churn and churn,
a million miles were traversed to affirm; this type of love

_TRF