Shall I go to India, 
to the valley where they say
I was meant to be born
and find the cave, which is,
perhaps, the only place
I would not remember you?

Or would I only think of you
and every choice you made
that denied what was meant to be
for me then? Would I be
chased there, too, by 
the ghosts of your past

And take yet another
high road that leads to yet
another year gone in the blink
of an eye? Might I lose myself
in the swirl of confusion but
see your smile everywhere,

and remember standing here
ten thousand years, alone
in one place or another?
Would I follow the sound
of his remembered laugh
only to have it lead me back

To the picture of the Romani man
and the cascade of my ancient tears?
Shall I live in the ashram or
dance to the freedom flute?
Wherever I go, there I am —
and you, you are everywhere.