You I will follow;
Where your foot falls
There shall be my foot,
What mission calls
You is the mission
That urges my feet
Into the distance.

Now down the street
I am your shadow.

It is as I thought,
Your own motion drapes you
With dignity, caught,
A toga, at your shoulder.
And it is true
Your own footsteps herald
And beat drums for you.
As I knew it would be,
It is good to have pride
That is lift of a shoulder,
That is shout in a stride.

The air tempts your breathing,
As I knew it might,
Till each breath goes from you
Like wings in flight.
And no breath is wasted
Of breath that is sped
With the slow grace of sea birds
Over a head.
New streets are waiting
Beyond the turns;
At each street's ending
The distance yearns.

The way is less sober;
It wavers and after
A plunge, it flares up
In a ripple like laughter.
Then with the purpose
Of testing your skill,
It leaps before you
And calls with a hill.

But no hill can shame you,
The new demand
It makes upon you
Is a staff in your hand.

Here on the summit
The way is slow;
There is a feeling
Of trees. Below
The distance crouches.
Ahead, and side to side,
The yearn of all space reaches
Like great arms opened wide…
Shadows wrap about you,
Shadows that are made
Of wind and night reach for you,
Folding you into the shade…

I know now why you press on
Into a distance black
With formlessness; I know now
There is no turning back.