POEM - Paths

All paths are divergent.
Wandering like a lost child.
Attempts to hold on just empty us,
Like a knocked over tumbler.
Parallel paths, circular ones –
They all deliver the pilgrim in us to us,
Explorers that we are
Though pretend we cannot be.
Feeling like a homebody as a wanderer –
Just a little,
This is all I ask.
The mortar and brick
Of lives hold back the
Great wingspan that is hope.
Waiting in us,
Hiding and colorful like an Easter egg.
Fear and laughter and love
Are qll the ingredients we need.
All shall be well, my dear,
And all shall be well.
What you hold for me as unspoken
And what I hold deepest for you,
This is what is most true.