The space between
where I am and where I want to be-
a chasm of sharp rocks and caves of crystals.
Armies of strangers and friends,
Mysteries and untold stories.
Muddy swamps fertile and scented with birth,
Packed earth paths with rocks worn smooth
by 1000 hands with fingers outstretched as they pass.
I cannot cross blindly with eyes fixed on some future point.
I cannot build a bridge
above
to hasten the passage through this space.
I must be a pilgrim
And measure the earth with my body,
fill these spaces with my breath
a thousand points in becoming
Self-absorbed 