I go with you in your travels
from one end to the other
Pacing onward to the other side
and back again,
Always near but not quite there.
So remote and new are these end points
with all the pleasures and hesitations
Is it alacrity Or curosity
that poke you into motion?
or the excitment of how near you can get
The newness of it
and even newer if you don't get to it
that makes you stretch it even more?
Or the fear
that if you stop that's when you are
closer to it,
like you have never been before?
losing yourself to it