Passion Underfoot Onward Still

I feel like a member of the Lewis and Clark expedition.
Or of that same tribe.
In my mind
I'm an explorer, running along shore whilst the other men sail slowly downstream.
I walk with big steps in my moccasins that are wearing thin.
I stride through tall grass above my waist line.
At sunset the men from the boat have gone ashore to set up camp, and supper awaits.
The fire roars, invitations to sit near accepted, it burns my face when I sit close, but it is too good to turn away. It warms me to the core from a long days wary walk.
I hold my head down and absorb smoke, blessings, and a fullness I haven't felt in awhile.
The moon is full overhead and the blanket of stars comforts me back to small, lulling me to slumber under.
I tuck in, my bedding surrounds my tired soul, bones and still I become.
There is more than a days journey ahead. Desire pushes us onward. The ocean we will reach, and it will greet us with open arms, accepting us, because we knew it was there.
We only had to cross an eternity's worth of land, dried grasses, muddy waters, and dirt , using only our hearts as a compass to find it.