Uninspired,
and plumb out of unexamined minutiae,
I collected gravel
. . .
pointed pebbles embedding underfoot as I strolled,
and bits that bit fascia
when I wandered,
and fragments that flayed feet outgrown sea glass or slipper
on subsequent trudge,
paving my sole in portable road
–without quill–
in marbles gone missing, but
not crystal balls,
(too cloudy)
and absolutely zero
diamonds in the rough
–just lacerating chips–
of a game long since retired. . .
and so many!
‘til ultimately, my collection became
a road
–in and of myself—
freeing my journey
of blinding bramble
(at penultimate last)
a way to go I built
–that goes my way—
a way yet barefoot, uphill, and largely unmapped.
Lately though, I am noticing
still greater stones along scree highway,
and
Inspired.
I’m cobbling a path of substantial stone
–and shoes, to boot—
foregoing crushing
(stones to bits)
to lessen hobble
–inside and out–
keeping an eye out for
raptures circling overhead
–looking for loosened feather—
in the breeze.
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