Journeying

A journey

Beginning always

At the base of the world-tree,

The base of things.

Like moles, like rabbits,

Like tiny organisms and

Large and small predators –

A part of the landscape,

A part of a whole.

Our purpose is to be,

To be what we may become,

No way to be separate,

Or unneeded, or misplaced.

However it may feel.

Feelings are to be trusted,

But as barometers,

not compasses or calipers.

We step away and feel

Adventurous, or fated,

Or rebellious, or orphaned,

All is well with the stepping

And with the feeling.

Nothing goes off-script,

Because: no script.

No constrictions, no conditions.

We stand at the base of the tree

And move or not move, connected.