The ground ahead is not withheld But uncreated, waiting on The weight of footfall to become What walking makes of it Other feet have walked here too Their traces rising with my own Fellow phenomena of pressure And the earth receiving both To set out without a chart Is not to wander but be found By the only direction That opens now, now, now Beneath the step that dares To trust the making more Than any map of made For the way is in the walking And nowhere else