target

A Pursuit of Purpose

Standing at the center of nowhere
With eyes on a target that only the mind can see
Sniffing out a lingering scent only the heart can smell
From a place the feet has never been yet the soul recognizes
A path never before traveled yet so familiar
I follow an intimate trail from my future
My senses, I find, are perfectly au courant with my trackway
Knowing where to turn and how not to swing
What bliss, even the dead-ends are a Godsend
Then the night comes, when physical sight fails me
Nevertheless, I am guarded along the path of purpose
Steadily and steadfastly, I listen for that still small voice