each
makes his path
his
small path
quickly
overgrown
but
leading him slowly
to
where he is going
which
is not
where
he is planning to go
and
when the last vine
or
bamboo is cut
he
emerges into a clearing
each
into a different
clearing
where
some are met
by
cannibals some by lovers
some
by friends
and
some by nothing
except
a clearing
a
sky with stars at night
and
by day an unexpected
view
of the next hill
which
is reason enough
for
the long journey
more
than reason enough
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