hands off

the carpet roll has ended,
my feet no longer land
on velvet soft,
hardened ground.
the toughened soil has given way
to blurred lines,
weak links.

between me and the path ahead
my fogged filters block
the knowledge of my arrival –
they say it’s about the journey,
but i hate travelling blind.

whenceforth i started
my path less travelled by
has been worn by the soles.

where have You headed me now?

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