Sometimes you move in space quickly, smelling the direction.
Suddenly you realise that you are on a path without destination.
It might have been walked before.
The Earth surface is like an old palimpsest:
written, delated and overwritten.
Treaded, leading nowhere.
Sometimes, smelling your destination, you bump against a wall.
Head pain. Head ache.
It is the moment when you stop, recovering,
you see blooming all around you.
it was there before.
I try to remember the smell I was following,
but I am just visualising a scene I was not aware to absorb.
The spring is fading away, warm rays.