There is something beautiful
on the other side of the forest.

A pasture.
Gardens filled with abundance.
Rivers in motion.

All of my own creation.

With strife as my instrument,
wilderness shaped
and tamed into order.

My paradise will be earned,
not gifted.

Only then
will I rest.

I.

The forest with its dense foliage lies ahead

The sounds, the smells, the sight
The forest is all-consuming.

I raise my view in curiosity
A robin
accompanied by its nest,
a crude collection of twigs and grass
A sudden change of heart
“Am I an outsider in a realm not made for me?”

I begin on the stone path in front of me
It starts straight
Then it bends,
breaks,
and eventually dissolves into a sea of tall grass

I gather myself.
peer my eyes forward.
and see untamed wilderness,
it dominates

In this moment,
I am small
I am disoriented

The path I have relied on is gone
And despite its guidance,
I feel just as much of an outsider as when I entered the forest

II.

The stone path was still
The journey from here is anything but

One moment,
a shallow pond
A duckling and its mother,
floating at the waters surface
A fleeting second of harmony and order
within the uncertainty of the forest

The next moment,
A thorn strikes my leg
I try to avoid it
But this only drives it deeper into my skin
It draws blood

In this moment, uncertainty no longer reigns
Now all that prevails is pain
and dejection