The Never Ending Sequence

There is no shame
as I walk alone,
mile after mile
of nothing in my head,
while reading old,
and often tattered maps,
to places I’ve already been.

I adore looking at the lines,
reading them slowly
like a beloved poem
reminding me of the pull of the sea,
to trace the roads
with my fingers
knowing
eventually
I will come out
at the places
I am supposed to be.

All I can do;
all anyone can ever do,
is to walk with toes pointed
forward and believe
in the sky
and the Earth
uniting at the horizon
to give us a point of hope,
something good and clean to focus on
in the never ending sequence
of forgiving days.