It nervously splinters the patient silence At times ready to thrash through the underbrush But it does not Cutting a slow fade in the setting (rising?) sunlight Its soft steps crunch the dried leaves and twigs Whispering nothings and everything Glancing to and fro for its bearings Always moving forward to that place Both known and unknown Composed of a past and of a future Under the faint moon just appearing (disappearing?) in the sky Pushing through the vegetation Though not quite leveling or clearing Its trail is at once masked by the grass Just tall enough to obscure Yet marked enough by the diverging (converging?) celestial lights One behind One ahead It follows as it leads Each step is its own opening note To unlocking the music of that patient silence Holding things unheard Holding things yet to be heard Despite the silence draping a veil on its path It steadily continues on Firm enough to know how far it has come Gently enough not to disturb the serenity Lest it unleashes the chaos …