Ashley Woodbridge

The Search For Home

Gently, softly, gliding through the air, snow fell from the cold, bleak winter sky. Blanketing the ground in a tender fleece. Tenderness that is deceptive to say the least, giving the illusion of firm solidity. Only to have the mirage dissipate under the weight of formulated matter. Formulated matter that leaves behind traces and steps leading to a path unknown to the knower. A path chosen by the one who captions her soul and the masters of her fate. She is the one who leads and does not follow. She takes one step then two, perceiving progressive forward movement without knowing the conclusion.