There was a desert.
That was where we started.
We didn't know what, if anything,
came before it, or who we were.
We started walking. We walked,
and the horizon retreated from us.
We kept walking, until at last it halted,
and we arrived at the desert's end,
where the forest began.
We found paths through it,
not always knowing how, somehow
compounding inspiration and inference,
sometimes following our instincts,
sometimes creating paths
where none had previously existed,
sometimes following the tracks of beasts.
Frustration led to rancour,
and at last we went our separate ways.
Was it a day, or was it one hundred thousand years,
until we finally stepped out of the forest,
onto a beach, and saw the sea for the first time,
where there were no tracks to follow,
and intuition surrendered to its subtlety,
and we walked in, and swam, and lost ourselves,
and understood that love is all there is,
and everything else is just a journey
that leads us to this discovery?
