A Gate That Leads to Nowhere

I walk the early morning, half-awake,
To look for what I lost back in the night;
I linger over little things, and take
A second over some absorbing site —

A gate that leads to nowhere in the mist
That has me won’dring: might this be the way?
In tracing back through my long laundry list,
That makes up all the fears of a new day —

I glance down at the band upon my arm,
That’s there for ‘fitness’ – as that’s understood –
And wish I knew I wasn’t doing harm,
Since I cannot be sure I’m doing good —

But there, among the things that I can’t know,
Is really how far I have yet to go

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