Lost

Stand still.

 

The trees ahead and bushes beside you are not lost.

Wherever you are is called “here” and you must

treat it as a powerful stranger,

must ask permission to know it

and be known,

 

Listen.

the Forest breathes, it whispers,

I have made this place around you. If you leave it

you may come back again saying “here”.

No two trees are the same to Raven.

No two branches are the same to Wren.

If what a tree of branch does is lost on you

Then you are surely lost.

Stand still.

The Forest knows where you are.

You must let it find you.

 

–Native American poem

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