i have no idea what to do with myself

i know not if anything i do could help me

even if i managed to succeed

day to day

i constantly worry what will become of me

how long it will be before i fail

b/c i know there is no way that i can possibly turn my path back from here

i have looked toward the setting sun

and i must now follow it or perish when next i meet the rising sun from the other way

lightning struck the tree in which i built my home

the mighty bole in splinters

the last branch cracks and i know i will soon be forever on my own

my vine is cut

it is a race against time now to lay down new roots

or else wither where i lay

exposed to blistering suns and crows' beaks

my thorns stripped away

i have to trust the earth

should this place be my end

i should disappoint myself

but trust i will bravely meet my fate wherever it should take me

my heart does envision my footprints elsewhere

a winding path from shore to desert to mountain rock

by sea again to meadow, moor and hilldale

my step ever slower, faltering not until the end

my final stone desires ivy, not bottlebrush

the green growth of my soul longs to spill out