of the line, there aren't any lines.
at the edge of every
demarcation on the graph,
such a delineation
does not exist
and the once obdurate
frontier, as if curdled by fear
of its own fixity
will curve back
on itself, like looking for comfort
in some less ostentatious past
like the tail of some
'fraidy cat.
Returning
from your journey—you too,
will likely find
there never was
any such trip;
your life has not been
some straightforward expedition,
and it's not because
you didn't arrive anywhere
(no one does that)—
but because
the very first step
mattered
mattered
so much more
than every other step
which proceeded it—that is,
each step
took you farther than the next—
and in turn,
even that very first step
was always
fated to be
much less significant
to the picture
than
the stopping.