drifting into mystery?

or so i might describe my state
so disillusioned by this path i've taken right now
i don't want to stay the course
but the work it would take to return to the fork to start anew may cause me to forget which path i started upon in the first place

so i'll stay
maybe i'll sit down right here
in this pile of brown leaves
and play in them for while.

maybe i'll light them on fire and see if it engulfs the forest
i don't think it will
the leaves are damp, afterall, and i know i'll be unsuccessful

so i'll sit in them. maybe build a wreath for a friend who needs a hug and no arms of mine can reach so far but the leaves, the same here as there can easily take the place -- the Earth, afterall, knows more about her than i do.

maybe i'll find a potatobug here, too. maybe i'll pick it up and stare at its little round body and wonder why i didn't become that instead of ---
me.

is that more pressing than why i didn't become him or her or us collectively, though? or is my problem that i just can't see why this me i became has been reduced to sitting in these leaves pondering mine and my friend potatobug's existence. ??

i laugh because i often punctuate a question with a period. clearly i know that the question is a statement, an affirmative. maybe this is a portrayal of my need for reassurance from you. you who knows my answer- to tell me- though i've already answered- that my answer is sound.

back to that concept of drifitng
sifting
through something in you
that's made me clear myself of excess i do not require
i am still wholly me
without those things removed from the wire

when i get this air pushed violently through my lungs
i realize
that i have not breathed fully in months
remember
what pure air feels like filled with a smile that can't help but creep into my face
when i breathe that breath
powered by the force you have applied
i thank that clear air
and you
and myself for reassuming my free comfortable self.