Sunday, June 14, 2020

Sunken Traces of Contrivance

Some paths are narrow, often
Little more than impressions

In the grass. Other paths cut
Off bends in rivers, sometimes

Leading to ponds and trailing
Muddy slides to the water.

Some paths are conspicuous,
Incised with regular use.

Other paths become sunken
In the gloom of the deep woods.

From paths you can learn a bit
About what creatures desire,

A bit about the hazards
And obstacles facing them,

A bit about the creatures
Themselves, which ones are common,

Which ones rarely pass this way.
See? Look well. Still, you can’t learn

Much about where a track ends
By knowing where it began.

There’s no essence to a path
That’s carried from place to place.

The suggestions of seeing
And looking, simple, diverged

From the same fields of willow
And horses, one trail heading

West in a rough progression
Through graves and constellations,

Through tokens, signs, and omens,
Branching into rivulets,

Suggestions now for meaning,
Everything meaning meaning.

The other trace headed south
And east, eventually.

It turned to meditation,
Sinking from sight to insight,

Past knowing, through unknowing.
Once it arrived, it was gone.

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