And suddenly, there are no more roads.
no familiar landmarks to guide your way.
You are in the barrens,
not so much lost as abandoned and stripped
of your sense of direction.
And so wait a while.
Watch the sun cross the sky.
Feel the wind across your skin.
Smell the salt of the sea, somewhere distant.
Explore, not the territory around you,
but your very soul.
There is no hurry to decide.
The horizons will not disappear,
they will only shift with the seasons.
Taste the freedom of catastrophe
and choose a direction,
none of them right,
none of them wrong,
none of them permanent for
as the landscape changes,
so do the possibilities.
and the only death comes
from staying still too long.
About this poem
A core belief, in poetry.
The picture was taken on Cape Cod