The Map

In a pocket of time
I found a map to you
I wonder if
The path still lies true
When I've lost all trace of North

Some things can't be frozen
In a cage of pen and paper
Some times the blood in my head
Is the only ink at hand
That can write trust into my bones

I'll stay up all night
And plot my course into forever
Hunched like a starving bear
Over the season's last salmon
Doom rolling in with the snow clouds.

I'll tread the path
Till my footsteps are as natural
As the wild earth they cut,
Warmed against the winter scorn
Wrapped in thick determination

And
Never once pause to think
If you've somehow
Moved on from there