I’m on my way to nowhere. It’s not that I’m not moving, but I keep losing the path, wandering off the trail, meandering, loitering, stopping altogether. In truth, I never knew where the trail was going, but perhaps I thought that if I walked fast enough I would reach wherever it was before it saw me coming and had a chance to disappear. Goals are like mirages, I think. They sometimes appear before me in periods of thirst, and I find myself crawling in the desert with all my strength, truly wanting to believe. Then the dreamed-of vision dissolves and I fear dissolving with it. If, instead of panicking, I stand still, I might find that I have indeed been carrying water all along, that the seeds caught on the soles of my feet have sown wild gardens all around me, that this place – nowhere – is exactly where I want to be.

From 100 Words: The Beauty of Brevity. Word prompt: “nowhere”