The Way II

It is so quiet out there -
nothing moves, the light
snowfall has frozen on the
grass and road, street
lights went on as dusk
came down, birds are
all home.  Inside, with the
bright orange flames
I muse
on what has been, on
where I've come, on what
the road ahead is.  There
is a fog obscuring my steps
and I had a message,
yesterday, of bewilderment
and a blind non-comprehending
question of:  what do we do
here, now, what
is this place?  Perhaps I
only answer that with
my feet
though I cannot see
the way.

One Year Round The Sun
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