I am in this country again.
This dream among a million dreams. This day among a thousand and one nights. This feeling among all these emotions. This poem among story tellers.
I meet her again.
This time among the overgrown weeds coated with morning dew. Spider webs hidden among flowers. Nectar dripping off thorns. The cracked and crumbling earth bearing the burden of my every movement. The choreographed birds appearing out of nowhere and disappearing into nothingness. The golden reflection of dawn in a puddle of water.
She greets me as if we were meeting for the first time.
Very soon, you reach the edge. It is not as far as you think it is. Often, it is just round the bend. And then, here you are. At the precipice. And nothing in front of you but a free fall. All the way down. All the way back. All the way.
It’s probably for the best anyway.