The jumping off place
Not a bridge too far.
Not a mountain too high.
Just a simple shade of finite sky.
With every line drawn in the dirt,
A castaway from the hurt.
A pine pillar in which to hang a lost shirt.
What of a stepping point?
Where are the cobbled stones?
How to find my rock in this the hard place?
I am nothing but a worn down to the ground
Always holding on for the last gasp.
Oh, but, what a beginning, right here in the middle.
Post hibernation, I feel encompassed by the
trivial fears so silly and simple and little.
On this path, so far along.
Never too far to write a wrong.