These feet move
of their own accord
tracing out its path
Where do you go?
“I know not,” I say, confused
“There is nothing
before me.”
Why do you go?
seeing no further
than the tips
of my toes, I whisper,
“I do not, I’ve
simply been carried.”
Carried where?
“Ever into the unknown.”
so sure-footed, these feet
have carried me far,
shown me
till my eyes brim.
. . .
You know Rafia, this poem, which is also a beautiful metaphor for
Life, is also a perfect description for the state we are in, when we write poetry. This is a such a beautiful metaphor, for not knowing how or why…just going there…trusting, and writing what comes..what “moves our feet” down the beach, being led by an invisible muse, that we know and trust intrinsically. I love this and also..your blog lay out is glorious…I am still in the dark ages of “classic” Yours just calls out to be read and seen. Beautiful!
Thank you Timo!
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This brings forth an image of walking along the sea, ocean washing away all evidence of your steps behind you. That you forget where you started or why you ever did, but the only way to go is forward. You will reach solid ground again and your doubt will fade as though it never happened.
forget…or do we ever know at all? Thanks, Nal.
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Thank you ❤
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MindWraith 
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