Having exhausted all options,
to protect myself from them,
I have taken to never raising my eyes.
And in that process,
of charting the ground below.
The very same ground that was pounded relentlessly.
realised it had taken so many facets,
meanings and unseen realities.
Of mossy greens and amber dust
and leaves and petals and broken concrete.
All some form of glory from the past,
all today meeting in the melody of having lost.
Mingling, gravel, petal, a leaf, two footprints.
So much was lost.
And so much came back from that gravel laden,
ground beneath my feet.
6/09/2002
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