How many paths must we cross,
Must we stumble through;
Guessing which part of the fork is best positioned for the tastiest bite?
To chew on the destination of thoughts that enable blood to pump and flow
Parallel to the bordered trail like a stream;
A continuous reminder of water and the other elements one person needs to survive
Removing the requirements of life and focusing on all that is surrendered
To a compartmentalized pandora’s box
Categorizing important cargo in a wooden reminder of vulnerability
Dried salmon candle wax puddled on the cracked surface
Staining the purity of all that embraces my mind
I am grateful for friendly neighbors. ❤
Muse Writer 