Some people are still standing in the forest,
waiting for a voice to tell them which way is north.
They move carefully, step by step,
looking for signs, trails, markers, hands to point.
They believe the path already exists
and their only task is to find it.
Others are swinging the axe.
Not because they are angry,
but because they are tired of asking.
They cut through what blocks them,
not to escape the forest,
but to prove they were never meant to follow it.
They leave a trail behind them
that didn’t exist until they walked it.
From one angle, the first are wise.
They trust, they listen, they survive together.
From another angle, they are waiting
inside a maze that was never built for them.
From one angle, the second are brave.
They trust themselves, they risk getting lost,
they turn uncertainty into direction.
From another angle, they are alone
in a wilderness they created.
The forest doesn’t judge either.
It grows around both.
One believes the way is already written.
The other writes while walking.
Neither is right.
Neither is wrong.
One needs guidance to move.
One moves to discover guidance.
And the strangest part is this:
the ones asking for directions think the cutters are reckless,
the cutters think the ones asking are afraid,
but both are just trying to answer the same question
from opposite sides of the trees.
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