There was no open path, but we made one, big enough for two. It was my handwriting, underlined by you, right behind me. Relentlessly we took turns, pitched in and patched up. The blank sheet opened before us. Our footprints like letters forming little and not-so-little words, irrelevant and not-so-irrelevant stories. We could go anywhere.
Our aimless march through the forest had no purpose and we found it ever so soothing. And just like it so often is, we found something when we weren’t looking for anything. In the heart of the forest a unison dwelled. It cocooned and flourished in radiant sovereignity. To our surprise, we noticed that we were out of breath when we reached it.
We hesitated to leave but we knew that we couldn’t stay. Evidently, there would be a snowfall that would cover our tracks, and no one else would know that we had been there.