I walk between the shadows of becoming and begun,
Where every road dissolves beneath the dawn.
The horizon folds itself like paper cranes in flight,
Each wing a promise — each promise gone.
I have gathered stars to light my map,
Yet still, the constellations rearrange.
Each truth I hold turns fluid in my grasp,
Its edges soft, its meaning strange.
I’ve called to silence, begged for signs,
Heard echoes answer with my name.
Still, I wander — not lost, but learning
That seeking and finding are never the same.
For every question births another sky,
And every step reweaves the thread —
Until the seeker is the thing sought after,
And the path is the prayer that’s said.
So let me roam, with open eyes and hands,
Through time’s unending, shimmering arch —
For peace is not a place to stand,
But the pulse within the search.
Thank-you for reading.
Remember there are many paths back to God.
Follow your own path,
Brenda Marie
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