Literature
The Path
The four winds beckon me toward a path
I must travel alone.
They remind me that boldness, valor, walk hand in hand
through mountains, forest, frozen lands.
Although I might be afraid, doubts still linger,
my legs quiver, my hands shake,
I will still follow the path nature has set before me.
I think of you as I travel…
the dreams we had, the memories shared,
your beautiful light that faded, perished
in the storm‑torn night.
I hear it in the old stories in my mind.
I see you in the wind, your eyes still filled
with wonder, quiet magic.
Tears soft as rain, yet powerful enough
to carve through stone.
I am with you as I always was.
We face our fears together,
carrying only each other’s borrowed trust.
Changes begin in the smallest of forms
whispers of love that outlive those who write them.
The faintest light can guide weary travelers
safely home.
I follow that star that still shines on you,
not because I remember its name,
because it still knows mine.
Like a soft promise
