Walker, your footsteps
are the road, and nothing more.
Walker, there is no road,
the road is made by walking.
Walking you make the road,
and turning to look behind
you see the path you never
again will step upon.
Walker, there is no road,
only foam trails on the sea.
Shapes, dynamics,
sounds, meaning:
at a time.
I have to gestate the experience,
bake it in my mind's oven,
pull away,
avoid stimulus.
I need just to be
and listen to my silence.