It’s a path I’ve walked before, with secrets to be found in every cavern along the rocky shore, in every finch’s song. Bending down at the trunks of majestic oak trees reveals fairies dancing on knotted roots, and watching the stars from grassy hilltops on cloudless nights reveals infinite myths in the constellations. Even when one seems to stray from the road, it’s difficult to forget that one is never lost in this world where the calm winds carry the whispers of the Fates, where the gods can be found dancing and celebrating the perfection of this world if you know where to look.
Sometimes I do stray. Sometimes I leave the safety of the path, doubting its ability to ever bring me anywhere near where I’d like to be, and wander aimlessly. Everyone has moments when they lose their way.
This is me returning to the path. This is me once again looking for the beauty in everything—the colors of a garden, the stillness of a sticky summer night, the laughter of nymphs carried on the breezes—around me and within me.
