Blue Lines On The Map Poem by Smoky Hoss

Those little blue lines out there
in the middle of nowhere,
on the maps of old
are all stories drawn and told;
started by wagon trails
or Pony Express mails,
and bison paths
long before that.
On the map, merely marks
but out here upon the earth
they are existential sparks;
lines of freedom, always giving
hope to the continuum of living,
connecting something to somewhere
someone here to someone there.
The bison knew
as did the indigenous ones who followed too,
all...then, now and yet to come
on life's map, the entire sum,
travelling on a hope and a prayer
going here, going there... going Somewhere.