The branches and the sky
Geometries of light
The air is dry with dust and distant pine

A world upon the page
The map of all our days
The edges disappear, and crease, and fade

Place your feet with care
The path is loose with stones
Hold my hand and keep your eyes low
There is lost and there is lost
We don’t have far to go
The western sun will guide us home

The ravens in the trees
The leaves beneath our feet
Are witnesses to all we cannot speak

And when we touch the sand
Of where we first began
The places that we loved seem strange again

Place your feet with care
The path is loose with stones
Hold my hand and keep your eyes low
There is lost and there is lost
We don’t have far to go
The western sun will guide us home

Odysseus survived and made it home
And didn’t know it, for a moment
When we come to the place our journey ends
Will we see Ithaca for what it is?

Place your feet with care
The path is loose with stones
Hold my hand and keep your eyes low
There is lost and there is lost
We don’t have far to go
The western sun will guide us home