Why not draw a map,
a map with a volume of missteps
and mistakes sketched
along each knuckle,
a map where quest is part of the din,
shins scraped and bloody,
insects crawling and raising welts,
and the mind traipses bravely
whacking at the underbrush of doubt
with the cold blade of a machete?
"You are here," says this map.
No need to panic.
The heart is standing close,
holding your hand,
leading the way
past the familiar scene
and on to the next breath
taking vista.
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