Lost

I shall not cultivate
the meadows of regret,
but find the green sensation
where the raven goes at night
and the doe stands vigil 
over her sleeping fawn.

I will find a wilder place,
beyond want.
Not to renounce the body
nor to rise above the earth
but to deepen my surrender,
I will enter the entangled stillness
of the heart.

Let me feel its touch
in the bare soles of my feet,
walking gently down
the deer trail
far back in the woods

until Way disappears
in a host of moon-white
wide-awake trillium eyes,
gazing up from the kindness
of my lost shadow.