Where the Trail Ends

The trail vanishes under your boots,

Brambles clutch at ankles, roots snare fingers,

And still you push forward,

Through mossed rocks and hidden hollows.

A creek cuts across your path,

Its water cold, unyielding, rushing,

You step, balance, slide, laugh—

The forest tests your patience and resolve.

Sunlight fractures through the canopy,

Casting patterns on leaves and lichen,

Birdsong drifts from unseen branches,

Each sound a compass, each scent a guide.

No markers, no path signs,

Only your footprints pressed in mud and memory,

Every step a choice, every choice an adventure,

Every stumble a lesson, every climb a victory.

When the ridge opens to a wide view,

The world spreads below in jagged and green,

And you know the path mattered less than the wandering,

Less than the finding, less than the being.