closer

Being lost.
Looking for the way.
But where
is the question.
You know this isn’t it,
here,
but what is?
No signs, anyplace,
to tell you which way.
And, perhaps, there’s
more than one
way to get
you to where you want to
go,
or, more directly,
to where you need to be.
And each step, no matter how
inconspicuous or insignificant
or inauspicious or
inconsequential
moves you a bit closer,
at the very least.
And while Bob Dylan sings
in
the
background about
following you down, so
you
move.
Not a lot, maybe.
But you do move.