XXV.

Of the North we knew but little,

only the scant recollections and gleanings

won of observation: the rush of leaves, the pale arc of the moon, the chill of the evening.

Perceiving much, we understood yet fragments, as little as we knew of ourselves.

With half-intentions skittering around the corners of our minds we walked on,

our hopes and prayers and dreams

borne endlessly upward towards the quickening sky; our restless feet plodding on

beneath the silhouettes of phantom limbs.