Sometimes if you move carefully through the forest
Breathing like the ones
in the old stories who could cross a shimmering bed of dry leaves without a sound,
you come to a place whose only task is to trouble you with tiny
but frightening requests
conceived out of nowhere
but in this place
beginning to lead everywhere.
Requests to stop what you are doing right now,
to stop what you
are becoming
while you do it,
that can make
or unmake
a life,
questions that have patiently
waited for you,
questions that have no right to go away.