I've found within myself that I am somewhat lost.
I know the path that I should be walking on but have somehow found myself drifting through an endless grove of mile-high trees.
Their trunks are straight. Rigid. And shoot straight up to the heavens. Branching out far towards the top.
I run my hand along their rough bark. My skin catches on the surface. Tearing my flesh.
I quickly run to the left, only to find myself once again on the path. Pea stones and rosemary.
I reach down and grab a clump of rosemary. It sticks out between my fingers. Like a handful of hair.
When I stand up I discover that I am in the forest once more. A giant redwood an inch from my face.
Because it seems appropriate, I slam my forehead into the redwood. It hurts.
I feel that surreal sensation of when you've been hit too hard.
I do it again. Again. And again.
I'm bleeding on to the tree. The redwood has become more red.
Until I turn around and run into the opposite direction.
Ah..., the path. Here it is.
This pattern happens again and again. Over and over.
The loss. The finding. The loss. The finding.
I know that I will stray off into the trees again. And again.
I will hurt myself. Again. And again.
And I will find my way home. Again. And again.
