Many a meditation spent in contemplation upon your palm.
Returning year after year, grown a little older, a little wiser, a little stronger.
Bringing back to you new triumphs, experiments with danger,
And permanent sorrows of the heart.

All the while my formative mind yearning for answers,
brimming with a curiosity about the future,
still believing in naïve ideas of destiny,
and trying to foresee any untold plans you had for me.

And the breeze from the lake would whisper through the cedar trees,
The cold familiar aroma of earth would collect upon my tongue,
And I would add its strength to my heart, to forever carry into the unknown.

It wasn’t until I grew much older that I realized no one was watching.
In all these years it had only been me listening, only me speaking.
Only me driving my fears and worries deep into the stone upon which I rested,
Bleeding my want for purpose into pools at my feet
And leaving it to soak into the soil beneath me.