and it’s not this part: seeing the complete whole,
the beauty of the view laid out like
glorious and happy possibilities—it’s the walking down.
The vision slowly consumed—trees get taller...
the horizon more jagged, less smooth; until it is
above your head, until you’re in it.
What once was clear and straight
is now a hundred thousand miles away.
I don’t even know which way the path turns, now.
I didn't pay attention to the winding lines, and
will there be water along the way?
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