of another one thousand miles begins
by flipping a book of poetry on page 60.
And I can only trace a barely visible outline
and a very thin, barely visible bluish-grey line
that softly beckons for me to come, a call
that defines a longing as well as a belonging,
and falls under the radar of consciousness.
It will be another exploration, another scouting,
with more time dedicated to dwelling in that little space
where peace and truth reside.
I can perceive the terrain
where I will be journeying in silence once again
perhaps traversing more footpaths that are less traveled.
The road will open by itself and welcome me as I walk.
And the walk will be long and far and yet is short and near
as the point of departure will by itself be also a point of return.
Every mindful step will be a conversation of the heart,
written like a line of a poem, and recited like a prayer.
Stories will be created, turning into tales, and
distinctions will be made in footmarks and broken twigs.
Directions will be established by the guidance of the gut,
for it is what is right. I cannot explain this by the way, and it is
never easy yet it accomplishes its mission so well.
I have already embarked on this journey…