I set out without a compass,
no destination stitched in my sleeves,
only the hum of zephyrs
and the crunch of footsteps
spilling into dirt and leaves
The world widens
when you let go.
Every path turns stranger,
every tree leans like a whisper,
and rivers bend their backs
to show me where to go.
It isn’t escape -
it’s surrender,
to the thrum of roots
and the unmarked sky.
To vanish awhile
is sometimes the only way
to be found.
And so if they ask where I’ve gone,
tell them I am gone getting lost -
learning the shapes of silence,
trading certainty for wonder,
and mapping myself
by the stars that refuse to stay still.