A Journey in All Directions

Constellations appear
on my hands –
my hardworking hands
                  sun-worn,
                  scarred,
                  clutching,
not ready to release
my precious life.

Maybe I should ignore
the obvious signs
time is quickly passing.

I’d much rather learn
to read star maps,
as I travel further
into the unknown.

What should I keep?
What must I leave behind?

There is so much
I’ve failed to do –
                  never needing to be done.

How can anyone pack what’s needed
for a journey in all directions?

Something is telling me
to pause on each exhale,
and to become present
to the beauty surrounding me.

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This poem was written on October 15, 2025.