The Edge of Infinite Paths

The creek begins in a shiver,

its song a murmur that knows no end,

folding through moss-clad stones,

glinting like stray stars in daylight’s cradle.

Above, the sky, a canvas of slow-turning hues,

lets clouds melt into riddles only hearts can decipher.

I tread lightly, yet the earth remembers,

each footfall a question I dared not ask aloud.

Would you follow these same trails,

where the brambles claw, yet the wildflowers heal?

Would you hear the wind weaving old myths,

its secrets laced in every bend of the trees?

And then—

A doe stands, still as breath held too long.

She meets my gaze, her silence louder than thunder,

the boundary between her world and mine

blurring in the sharpness of the moment.

I blink, and she is gone.

The pulse of the forest quickens—

the creek rushes faster, the colors deepen.

What once seemed far now feels near,

as though I could stretch my hand

and grasp the thread that binds us all,

the longing to be seen, to belong,

to feel the wild call answered by another.