If I must be lost
let it be in a sea of wildflowers
with chipmunks chattering at my feet
and me so much a part of the breeze
that my being disturbs nothing.
Let me be lost
in a place without signposts,
where sorrel and vines grow free.
Let me find my own path
in the wildness of nature,
where nothing in sight
was created by man.
Let me wound nothing
and let nothing wound me,
no more than a sting or the bite
of a thorn, for such are the wounds
that heal without scarring.