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If I must be lost
let it be in a sea of wildflowers
with chipmunks chattering at my feet
and me, so much a part of the breeze
that my being disturbs nothing.

Let me be lost in a place
without signposts, where sorrel and vines
grow free.  Let me find my own path
in the wildness of nature, where nothing
in sight was created by man.

Let me wound nothing
and let nothing wound me, no more
than a sting or the bite of a thorn,
for such are the wounds
that heal without scarring