The Road Made Visible
You take my hand and fold red ribbons in my hair.
Wisdom leads you through the fog.
Fields part opening to wide forests and a road made visible.
We speak our own language known only to infants, the elderly and the silent.
The ground opens up and we disappear into a land of mystics and saints.
We are driven by unseen elements.
You speak an unspoken tongue.
Taught by beings of the past and souls forgotten.
You communicate with worlds that have fallen.
Worlds with strange names become our allies.
You become our interpreter as we ascend.