Of the path,


Each step
at times
seems forever
choosen carefully as though
preventing a fall
from grace?
Or merely a fall?
We walk
each step
choosen
measured
a step
taken
under an inch
we trip
over an inch
we stumble people looking
away
Are of the path?
One with the path?
part of the path?
or
off the path
lost
confused
alone
and knowing
not where to go?
Are we,
of the path?

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