William Garza
Veteran Member
- Time of past OR future Camino
- Camino Frances, The Jakobsweg
The Soul it seems..has grown jealous of the solitude and peaceable meander
Petulant and recidivist..keeps returning...at least in imagination to the road.
Landlocked and salty...cries out for magic in the air,for...dancing in the light.
Knows where yonder beacon points..and of the vasty sea between it and beginnings
Meanderings
And endings...inevitably
Unrequited.
Over and again...over
Finality is not destiny
Over and over ...thinkings
Over..again over... and somehow not done.
I am...out there...
I am here and a damnable duality it is
Wanders lust..and lost among the sea of faces in uncouth and rough language speakes,..so yea went on a traipes didyea?
Unbeknownst to you Pilgrim...that little waking walk was only the first step
Freedom sings and drowns out miriad gnat and fly of everyday...the pestilence of the ordinary.
Take you pilgrim
The road less traveled..before soul grows wearied and worn
Torn....and useless in old age
Where faint whispers upon bland wind brings tears in the hours between the hours...winters fingers massage
A message
Life is not practice
Cold tear for the fading dream
Going going..........
Gone
Pilgrim at the door...
Its time.
Off you go!
Petulant and recidivist..keeps returning...at least in imagination to the road.
Landlocked and salty...cries out for magic in the air,for...dancing in the light.
Knows where yonder beacon points..and of the vasty sea between it and beginnings
Meanderings
And endings...inevitably
Unrequited.
Over and again...over
Finality is not destiny
Over and over ...thinkings
Over..again over... and somehow not done.
I am...out there...
I am here and a damnable duality it is
Wanders lust..and lost among the sea of faces in uncouth and rough language speakes,..so yea went on a traipes didyea?
Unbeknownst to you Pilgrim...that little waking walk was only the first step
Freedom sings and drowns out miriad gnat and fly of everyday...the pestilence of the ordinary.
Take you pilgrim
The road less traveled..before soul grows wearied and worn
Torn....and useless in old age
Where faint whispers upon bland wind brings tears in the hours between the hours...winters fingers massage
A message
Life is not practice
Cold tear for the fading dream
Going going..........
Gone
Pilgrim at the door...
Its time.
Off you go!