Here, we might say, here is where
a road should be. But road there is none.
Isn’t that like us, thinking we know
the world better than the world itself.
There isn’t a road. That is clear.
And we want one. That’s clear, too.
And we don’t like the fact
there is no visible road.
Whether our intention is to run away
or to move closer to,
well, that changes, doesn’t it.
And isn’t it just like us to think
we need a road. Instead,
there is this change of light,
this scent of rain. There is
nothing we might call a path,
but there is this urge
to begin to move, this desire
that causes the legs to lift,
again and again and again,
less as if we are marionettes,
more as if there is some inner drive
more real than even the real world,
and it helps us step one more step,
one more step toward what we do not know.