every time i reach what i think
is the end of my road... something
happens...
storms come, destroying everything
behind me. the moon comes out, and
i find another fork in the path.
voices whisper, and tell me it's
going to be all right... just keep
walking...
i find i own nothing, not even the
clothes on my back... my memories,
merely twigs for the fire.
and what i thought i knew, no more
than tiny sparks in the darkness...
so letting go, i move on...
tired, and weary, too often alone...
i want to pray, but keep looking inward.
i stop to rest, and look up... that same
star from long ago... my spirit humming,
i rise up and go...
tonite, tomorrow, perhaps the end is near,
perhaps far... and i've come to know...
that life is but the journey!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice theme here Eric