Lost My Way, a Poem

Translated…

I’d Found Those Pebbles that Were Used to Mark My Way Home

They’d No Longer Glowed

The Small Cabin, Already Dark

not my picture…

The Wind, Quieted

The Trees Surrounded Me

So I Can, Wait

On that

not my picture…

Final Shooting Star

So, you’re lost by choice, because you want to experience the wonders of nature up close, and, you’re NOT afraid of not making it back to your home, because you know that you’re lost by choice, not because you were forced, to get lost…

not my picture…

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