I have let some force over the course of years tame my confused longings.
I am being brought to the form of myself most dear.
When I go walking, I still don’t know where I’m going,
but I no longer roam, and the noise of the street is only noise.
There are days when I act like a student, and days I am the teacher.
I’m finding out for myself. I’m touching the roots and the high branches.
Something grows as I grow that is not my growth and not not my growth.
When it’s ready, I’ll take it. When it’s not, I’ll know that it isn’t done.
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