I stand here in the midst of this storm and I wonder,
where will I be when it is over?
All my footprints shall be lost, swept over with new
dust, and so will be no more.
No longer will they beckon me to stumble back into
the past, leave it behind forever.
A wind whispers sweet nothings into my head,
lulling me out of this pondering.
Turning closed eyes to the sun, light fills my eyes
none the less and I weep.
Is one crying if there is no one to hear, or to see, or
to taste the salty warmth?
Catching myself before falling into a cold sea of
memorial misery I stop.
Slowly I begin to once again move my feet, one
then the other.
As I begin the steps of a continuing journey, I take
a breath and it is good.