I've been here before
but had no map
I different path now
but I know the weight of what I carried
and the sense that it must go on
is an old friend
There were voices once
some certain, some passing
None could see the full road
not even those who meant to guide
Still, the work kept forming
like dawn finding its way through shutters
A line would arrive
then another, then a crossing
And somewhere between the making
and the doubt
a path appeared beneath my feet
Not promised
not proven
but survived