Beyond here there’s no map.
How you get there is where
you’ll arrive; how, dawn by
dawn, you can see your way
clear: in ponds, sky, just as
woods you walk through give
to fields. And rivers: beyond
all burning, you’ll cross on bridges
you’ve long lugged with you.
Whatever your route, go lightly,
toward light. Once you give away
all save necessity, all’s
mostly well: what you used to
believe you owned is nothing,
nothing beside how you’ve come
to feel. You’ve no need now
to give in or give out: the way
you’re going your body seems
willing. Slowly as it may
otherwise tell you, whatever
it comes to you’re bound to know.
