The fog soupy, implying unawareness.
I call out, Can you verify my heading?
A generous bearing I desperately seek,
a heading once grasped, now loosed.
I stumble, I fall
in the vaporous air
I hear a call.
Yet again I step
sightlessly forward I hope.
Why do I step
disengaged from the rope?
The call I hear
not a great distance
but oddly very near.
And again I step
confidently forward I know.
For now I step
regenerated by the flow.
The fog breaks, revealing consciousness,
I call out, echoing back is my purpose.
A generous bearing held all along,
a secure home accepted, now freed.
Poem Grounded from Skillfully Generous – A New Confidence