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The road we travel

It has no markers if we are the first, the originals

It may not even appear to be a road nor a path

The place we are headed may be shrouded in potential and merely a glint that we see

Who cares is a common sentiment voiced by those in life we happen upon

Our only feedback is the lack of interest espoused by those with whom we share our dreams

Who cares about life when there is so much to self that wants attention and gifts

All the books and stories even told and written have bits and pieces of our journey

It is, after all, the way of being, the way to the sparkling light of our collective dreams

We have no guides nor resting places

There are no maps nor scenic view points

It is a hope less endeavor driven by the love we know that summons us

It is about change and uncertainty neither of which offer solace nor gratitude

Each moment causes doubt that challenges perseverance

Without the journey we are just molecules and atoms jostled about

There is no tomorrow nor yesterday

It has always been now

The brain cleverly explains its color and shape with memories conjured to fit

The ego imagines a different now calling it tomorrow and then it waits

The 'who we are' enthralled by the ego, listens to the memories and wonders like all wanderers do

Which is me and which is you

On the 'one day' we happen upon an other who knows our name

We celebrate the moment with 'I miss you'

We exchange our gifts and find ourselves bound

Entangled, we begin to grasp the meaning of two

The 'what if' is laid to rest buried under 'perhaps'

Do molecules laugh? Atoms want to know

So it goes this journey

Seeking the mountain that touches inside

The moment plays over and over

Intention and true love cradles thought

Never plays its dirge, while ever pretends to find what it has forgot

Wrapped in symbols, the silence cries out, turn back

Is it selfish to care

Is it arrogant to know

Can we be original when all around us expressions seek our attention

There is only one way to find out




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