These lines were meant to trace
a map we all could follow
to lonely ivory towers
princesses wilting in the cold
of isolation
The doors were open
letters sent
and we knew we were welcome
to stop by anytime
for a cup of coffee
and a chat
The path was there
for navigators
Notes and keys and secret handshakes
not well marked
but no tollbooths either
No superhighway
Point by point
Node to node
No final destination
just the journey
What things we found!
Such great sights!
Treasures and wisdom and foolishness
A hidden cache of pulsing light
Thusly goes the tale
with a thousand different names:
no gates, no keepers
no one more equal
their absence an invitation
to create the same
(for a price)
An open door
in time, attracts all feet
We don’t need to speak
about what happened, or how
Apart, we said goodbye in silence
to old ways
still young
The paths themselves, unrecognizable
with the edges all trimmed back
We never stopped traveling them
though the destinations changed
We don’t eulogize the horses
we just ride in different fields
where the paths are kept rough
by design
It’s not the same
but then, what is?
