Unknown, my hands
Wring and pick, I
Stick myself firmly
In the unknown, the
Places, the faces of
My future acquaintances,
The footsteps that will fall,
Small, unsteady, unknown
But ready, I walk,
To fly, to arrive,
I contrive this plan
Of unplanning, of
standing to face unfamiliar
space and sound, the
Ground beneath unknown,
Blown winds of seas,
I flee my home for the
Unknown, that I may
Be shown how little
I've grown, how far I've flown
To confront myself,
The true unknown,
Never out but in,
In, within my heart the
Uncharted map of
Blood and bone.