Cartography

In the valleys of my heart
and the mountains of my soul
I have walked unbeaten paths
by the breathless, sightless cold.
In the silence of the night,
I have learned the peaks and lows;
the rocky heights, the darkened depths
through which no river flows.
Sometimes the distant memory
Resounds again inside:
How jagged were these hills and crests,
How deep was this divide--
How far, how dark, how long, how bleak
The deft and silent night
How distant were the stars above,
How restless was their light?
This place was not so still once;
I once was not alone,
But if home is where the heart is,
Then this empty heart is home.