~for braxtonPphobic* and all the others
who dare to speak of their crossroad-laden voyage~
for the exploration of oneself
is a life long occupation;
it is one of those things
of which be writ,
“till death do us part”
<>
we as much voyageur and voyeur,
than explorer,
taking ourselves to our river,
for the crossover bridges a/k/a crossroads that present themselves as
choices called
why nots?
them never cease even as they come slower, later;
more profound, easier ro be comprehend,
but nope,
not easier to resolve
<>
as I think on it for the thousand time,
i am more content to describe ourselves
as pathfinders, chopping at jungle brush,
to clarify the route to the
“away,”
which makes us
cartographers, explorers, voyageurs, explorers,
a bit of each
<>
there is a sense of security given and taken,
when we cross a major intersection,
and no!
turning back into the fearsome traffic of the
“can’t be undone”
is simple unacceptable
<>
bravery required,
fear easily immobilizes,
but your eyesight inside keen,
asking the correct question,
just know this,
you
cannot ceasing
endless examinations
of what life
will
unstoppably,
present you
for your kind
consideration
we come for to read
your uncoverings,
the poems in utero,
held in your two hands
6/3~6/4/26