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the destination has never been an issue, only

the question of how to get there.

over the years my map has led me

along some strange and irregular paths

but my compass, it stays

set to true north

sometimes when I camp on a clear night

I'll leave the tent packed

so I can stare at the stars while I fall asleep

I dream of the North.

the aurora borealis calls me

like a siren song

so sweetly

and I know that someday I will

wrap myself in those shimmering lights

my feet on the ice

my arms in the sky

a new goddess for them to write into the myths

it's strange when home is

a place you've never been.

you spend your journey there knowing

that every step brings you closer to

the place you'll finally belong

if only you can survive the way there

sometimes the pressure of the cold sky

weighs down on me a little too heavy

and I realize I am here all alone

every morning I wake

with the taste of blood in my mouth.

memories of the moon stay with me

as I take those first few steps

on frozen earth.

every day dawns at a few degrees lower

so I grip my compass

and keep moving up to the horizon

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