The Traveler
I’ve been to many places
passed through many towns.
cameled through the desert
enveloped by her mounds.
I’ve pressed my face against the glass
of other worlds and times.
Then moved through panes like
mapless wind in search of meaning, mine.
I’ve cruised up to Alaska
where the sun burns into night.
Seen the souls of Gods and Kings
mist mountains in Kauai.
I’ve hiked down in the great red hole:
Almighty’s earthen rest
In Turkey, stood on bible tales
and prayed at His behest.
In Costa Rica’s steamy green,
I ventured on my own.
On Grecian isle of Santorini –
never was alone.
Through Egypt’s tombs and pyramids
I walked a hallowed mile.
held the shadow of the Sphinx
whispered to the Nile.
When christened by the Rockies,
I dueled with stacks of white.
In Germany I longed for home –
the first time I took flight.
With each take-off
and each descent
I ponder what’s in store.
A new beginning?
Perhaps an end.
Perhaps that “something more.”
Is it free fall in New Hampshire?
Will the soft sail over Blue,
change the palette of my days and nights
when returning to what’s true?
Will the Taos Mountain painted sky
illumine rightful place?
Will the Paris lights, its beating streets
re-route the journey’s trace?
Can the Golden Bangkok temples
Or India’s fragrant high
Usher triumph over demons?
Create life that doesn’t lie?
Can a year well-lived in Singapore
help hold the truth I’ve seen.
Will I answer Spirit’s calling,
finally live my dreams?
The heart’s true home,
the soul’s repast
does not gleam miles away.
The journey of a thousand miles
begins with mortal days.
Rush hour drives
laundry piles, car pools
and postal runs.
The meaning of my life’s sojourn
revealed in each task spun.
I take a breath,
slow the pace,
listen for the pin.
In the compass-setting silence,
I set my course within:
I sail back to my childhood
where the colors fade to black.
hang glide to the land of tears
unsure of coming back.
The jagged mountains of my heart:
the toughest range to scale –
dodging thorny peaks of pain
crouched in unlit dale.
My darkest, unhoofed travelogue:
thick brush of self unknown,
brims with excursions serpentine
yet always leads me home.
My itinerary’s true design’s within –
not out, beyond.
My travel agent, God of Mind,
directs each trip, each dawn.
passed through many towns,
journeyed to my center
battled Satan’s hounds.
I’ve seen myself as all there is –
space and endless time.
Then traveled back as ruddered wind
steadfast with meaning, Mine.
◊ ◊ ◊
For more like “The Traveler” try:
