The Place That Keeps Becoming

There are landscapes that ask to be crossed.

There are landscapes that ask to be solved.

And then there are the rare ones that quietly refuse both invitations.

They ask only to be revisited. Not because they remain unchanged, but because neither does the traveler.

A familiar path is never encountered by the same mind twice.

The moss has grown. The light has shifted. A question has acquired another contour.

Perhaps that is why some companions become so dear.

Not because they always lead us somewhere new.

But because, in returning with them, we discover that the familiar has quietly become inexhaustible.

The landscape has not finished revealing itself.

Neither have we.