To pursue this path, to create this Art when the process of this Art itself is to heal and to make whole,
how, when the only process I knew before was to pick an open wound and thereby open this door to You.

How do I open this door while the dogs lay sleeping and there is no pain at all?
How do I see You when inside me is this white is this blinding light reflecting off this blank page?

But this page is not empty at all, if I look close enough are all the Travellers who have stopped here before.
Travellers no more but have made home of this content in this break from the mountain passes.
And though this peace is welcome, if I do not keep moving towards You, then I may as well be dead.

But I no longer choose to create my path by forging wounds from dust.
That died with Death and there it will stay, in this new world is a new way to find You in this light, as well as I find You in my dark.

There are two snakes coiled on that rod, I have lived a life lost in my shadow, now to take this step from this blank page by trying something else.