Just when I think
I’m almost there,
the path turns back
and I am forced to see again
how far I’ve grown from you,
how shallow my roots,
how high the weeds,
how thick these thorns
have grown around your head.
Yet still you bloom
and cast your seeds
from the center of my being,
Laying clues along the trail
so I may find my way back home to you
* * *
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