Lost (But Not Really): The Beautiful Art of Getting Lost

It took a few seconds to realize
I was utterly and completely lost.

Not the kind of lost where your GPS glitches,
Not the kind where you forget your keys
or wander a grocery aisle twice.
I mean existentially,
spiritually,
head-to-toe,
soul-sinking kind of lost.

And funny thing is,
I was just trying to buy lemons.

That’s where it started.
Tuesday, 4:13 PM.
Just lemons.

I walked out the door with a grocery list
and walked into a portal disguised as sunlight.

I didn’t notice it at first—
just the slight shimmer on the sidewalk,
the way my footstep landed
and didn’t echo back.
The air felt too still,
like someone had hit “pause” on the wind.

The tree on the corner
was blooming clocks instead of flowers.
Ticking softly,
their stems green as envy,
as if time grew like fruit
for the picking.

I kept walking.
Because what else do you do
when your reality begins to crumble
like a dry biscuit in warm tea?

The traffic lights blinked in Morse code.
I think they were trying to say:
Turn back now.
But I never learned Morse code,
just Latin,
which never helped anyone order coffee
or escape multiversal loops.

At the crosswalk,
a mime held out his hand.
He wasn’t performing.
He was pleading.
His eyes said,
Don’t go where I’ve gone.
But his mouth—
his mouth was zipped shut with velvet.

Still, I walked on.
One lemon.
Just one.
Yellow, sun-soft,
something normal to hold.

Past the bookstore that blinked
in and out of existence,
offering novels that wrote themselves
with each choice I made.
I opened one—
its title was:
“The Girl Who Mistook Lemons For Stars.”
Inside,
every page was blank,
except for one,
where it read:
Look behind you.

So I did.

And I wasn’t there.

I mean—
my body was.
But not me.

She looked like me,
but she was humming a song
I hadn’t heard since childhood,
and holding a jar
that glowed like a memory
I wasn’t ready to unpack.

It took a few seconds to realize
I wasn’t walking anymore.
The road was.

Beneath me, it pulsed,
changing tiles with each step,
like a snake dreaming in Braille.

Suddenly—
I was underwater.
Still breathing,
somehow.
A jellyfish drifted by,
wearing glasses.
She asked,
Have you lost something important?

I didn’t know how to answer.

So I nodded.

She handed me a key.
It was carved with an unfamiliar letter,
but my palm knew it
like an echo from before I had a name.

The next thing I knew—
I was in a room full of mirrors.
But none of them showed me.

They showed
what I could’ve been.
A violinist.
A scientist.
A girl who stayed.
A girl who left earlier.
A woman with children.
A woman with none.

In one,
I was still waiting at the bus stop
from ten years ago,
hoping someone would come back.

In another,
I was dancing on a rooftop
under neon rain
with someone who smelled like
freedom and regret.

I punched the mirror.
It bled glitter.

Out of the shards came voices.
My mother.
My best friend.
That teacher who once said,
You are too much and not enough.

They said,
in unison:
You’re almost there.

Almost where?
I asked.

But they were gone.
And I was back
in the grocery aisle.

Lemons,
neatly stacked.
Bright.
Innocent.
Mocking.

It took a few seconds to realize
nothing had changed—
except everything.

My shoes were wet with ocean.
My pockets held seeds.
I didn’t remember picking them up.
But I knew they weren’t metaphor.
They were real.
The kind of seeds
that grow into stories
if you plant them with a question.

And I had so many questions.

I passed by a man
who smiled and said,
You made it back. Not everyone does.

I blinked.
His shadow held hands
with three other shadows.
None were his.

I didn’t ask.
Some riddles grow teeth
when you speak them aloud.

I bought the lemon.
Just one.

But when I cut it open at home,
there was a map inside.
Drawn in ink
that smelled like lavender and thunderstorms.

It showed a place
I’ve never been—
and also know deeply.

It’s the hill
behind my childhood house
that didn’t exist.
It’s the alley
where I kissed someone
I only knew in a dream.
It’s the word
I forgot to say
when someone said goodbye.

It took a few seconds to realize
I was utterly and completely
found.

But not in the way
that means I have directions.
Found
like a stone in a river
suddenly aware
it was not always so smooth.

Found
like a letter addressed to the wrong person
but somehow still meant for me.

Found
like I lost something
just so I could learn
how to look deeper.

So I squeezed that lemon
into my tea,
tasted a hint of honey
though I’d added none,

and I smiled—
because sometimes,
the most surprising path
starts with getting
completely,
utterly,
beautifully
lost.

#PoetryOfTheDay #Poetry #GetLostToBeFound #ExistentialJourney #Metaphorical #Magic #Surprise #SelfDiscovery #SpilledInk #LostAndFound