tetsugaku no michi

a hand
not yours
on the philosopher’s path

you behind the lens

how the old
carved stones
tramp straight

into a future
where two borders
of trees merge
into one

sometime later
on the tracks
over may island

nose to steel
and nothing’s changed

time is still linear
hemmed by dark foliage
but with a pronounced


About Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner
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