No map.
Not a footprint of a past wanderer.
Is there a feeling of being drawn to it?
Will that feeling be ignored – again? What . . . for your protection?
Must everything be seen, tested?
Must every thought be one that has already been used?
A destination, about which no travel agent knows. Un-mapped.
Where the imprints of your toes mark the first evidence of life.
Bewilderment.
The Infinite 