The Journey undefined
Journeys are not defined
by comings
and goings
A journey
is not about destinations
one does not arrive
or depart
on a journey
And you sit
in the village café
with coffee
but you are not
Of this village
The waiter knows this
I come from a village
I know how long
I would have to sit
before the waiter
would see me differently
I only have this one life
I can not sit that long
But even if I were
would the Journey
have ended?
Not if I valued my life,
not unless despair
over took me.
This is part
of my journey
this pen
traveling
across the page
is part of my journey
This pause
to sip the coffee
part of the journey
the distant clatter
of goat bells
in the valley
dogs barking
Cocks crowing
a child’s voice
miles below
all part of the journey
The distant
silver, blue shimmer
of the sea
part of the journey
When I depart
does the journey
of this moment
end?
I finish the coffee
I gather my belongings
I leave coins
an empty cup
a full ashtray
Has my journey begun again?
The cobblestones
worn smooth
over centuries
of travel
I reach the crumbled citadel
Once the proud tower
of the Marquis de Sade
Was this my destination?
to stand atop this pinnacle
to behold the ruins
of compulsive madness?
No, This was only a coincidence
as arbitrary
as choosing
the café I was at
My journey
led me up the hill
and now it leads me
back down
This is not my village
But the day was mine
as this moment
on the terrace
is mine
as the goat bells
and the barking dog
and shimmering sea
are mine
This journey moves on
into uncertainty
as it began
I will arrive
Not in a place
but in a moment
a moment
as unexplored
as those distant
blue mountains
A moment
as foreign
as any land
And in that moment
does the journey
end
or begin again?
I bring with me
The wind
scented with myrtle
The sounds
from a valley far below
In this Journey
I am the destination