Posted by: Devin | September 26, 2016

Map to the Wind

The stone at my back is cold to the touch, wet and slick beneath my trembling fingertips. It has been so long since I have felt warmth that even this chilly rock holds comfort for me now. 

My bare feet have traversed terrains of all kinds, from deserts of dry dust to tundras of ice. To look upon them is to witness a road map of all the steps I have taken to bring me right here. 

Looking out over the landscape, I pull out my map and toss it to the wind. Its meandering rivers, plotted courses, peaks and valleys have served their purpose. I have stuck to the routes laid out by those who have traveled before me, and now it is time for me to trust my inner compass to guide me where it will. 

It is funny in a way to think back to the landmarks that led me here. The crumbling statues covered in moss. The battlegrounds left empty, shell casings and craters left from explosions. Hieroglyphic depictions of the thrill of the hunt. The smoldering cinders of fires left too long untended. 

Before me, a fog concealing unknowns. A fearful drumming pulsates through my veins. Sweat streams into my eyes, burning my vision, though I’m ready to see. 

A whipcrack of lightning lights up the sky, to be replaced by the darkness of this mysterious terrain. Heavy with dreaming, anxious with hope, I wish on the thunder replaced by a star. 


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