Alone, but not
sometimes in favor of…
sometimes not.
Trusted senses are followed.
Walk the winding path.
Hope for nothing and everything beyond the bend.
Trust the source, the maker, the humans, the bond.

Hello is not an invitation
Time is not my motivation
Direction is not arbitration.
Though I let my compass guide
the muse inside me
summoned by the stones beneath my feet.
By the voices in the street.

Alone but not fearful,
the explorer finds the sea.
The paved road turns back around.
Stones laid by men centuries ago
Were they good?
Were they bold?
Were they quiet?
Young or old?
Did they ever think they’d be laying the ground
for someone like me?
Trusting and free?

Oh the breeze saw the past.
It whispers in my ear
“You don’t belong, but you are welcome here”
Arid air disputes the tree.
The sun tramples its leaves.
Barely surviving,
they pray with the people:
Voices in the streets.

The rooftops tell the city’s secrets.
Laughing at what we do not know.