I found your breadcrumbs in the smudged place between prayer, sleep, and dawn; that space where hope leafs to belief and faith, or dies on the vine as the heart and the head conspire for control of the day.

There, a field of ten thousand elipses all bowed under a gentle wind, each willing one dot to a path that s-curved from the edge of the field to dawn’s encouraging embrace

There, graced by surrender, I followed your hints through the dawn into the Done; criss-crossing all the lands you had journeyed through so I didn’t have to

The breadcrumbs under foot became books and tomes as we sped under overpasses where politics, philosophy, science, religion, and ideas sauntered from left to right and back again

Above us, only sky as Lennon and Vincent and Mary Oliver and Rumi brushed the ether with beauty that left even God winded in wonder

~

I found your note at the end of the breadcrumbs: “Compassion, surrender, service” ~ and after some tears at the goodbye continued the path with my own breadcrumbs for the next to follow.