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When people change,
Do they know why?

Was it the last turn
on their path when
they seem different?

     I’ve taken a turn,
  climbed a ridge line
and looked back
the way I have come,
its road whispering
of the familiar.

Forward,
a narrow,
well travelled
path,
Off to the side
A waystation
  with water
And a Bowl

A chance to meditate,
Dream and
Rest….

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