Give up the search for a path
through this thick forest of life;
forsake tamped ground,
spongy bark-dust, packed needles,
and mantras repeated with fingers crossed.
Aspirations become lost after rising
to nest unnoticed in the limbs
of old-growth Doug Fir.
Dance through the maze;
soft shoe across painted lines
that promise an aisle to an altar;
pirouette, spin, twirl, jeté.
Grace of landing matters not;
glory in your footfalls, stumbles,
leaps, and trust; revel in the pulse
of humanity and love.
Wade in wonder through chilly water
whose bottom you cannot see;
balance on rocks slickened
by forces forever rushing;
dabble in placid ponds
rippled only by your own steps,
curious frogs, and occasional breezes;
slosh in surf crashing over toes
that curl into shifting sands;
struggle to stay upright with a smile
against the pull of rip tides.
Forget finding footprints
or leaving a trail.
Being is enough.