The red wine dripping into the glass
a free-falling river, serene
along the Way, in the solitude of meditation
Looking out a small window encased in stone
into another stone wall in another ancient village,
raindrops counting the steps of pilgrims
languages and music and the scratching of pens
watching a cat on the wet, clay roof
peering down at a three-legged dog
I do not wonder why the journey has to end
I do not remember exactly when it began, years ago
so I will continue on for years more until
I realize I happened upon another
I do not wish or want or wonder anymore
because I know now that I exist
and what my eyes do not see or my ears do not hear
still occurs, still a part of the spirit I am
I do not worry anymore
because I know now there is nothing worth pining over
I am existence, I am pure peace
We truly are ants marching across a tiny land
some sleeping
some working
some dreaming
some eating
all together
as a wandering tribe
clinging openly to a life
different than
the safety of pre-determination
the security of goals
We all,
in our own ways, with our own degree of confidence,
know fully
there is no future
know literally
there is nothing that happened in the past
know certainly
why it does not exist
We cling to every second
We savor every bite
We absorb every word
take another sip of wine
stare off remembering the path
and always seem to get lost in our own minds
forgetting what we began
not really caring to know what is next
Spending the day watching the rain
from this small window
is enough life
…nothing more I need
af
(written on camino)
Ah, lovely, man. These poems are really giving me something to look forward to in the day, it’s great. Keep it up, brother. M x
I’m glad you’ve been reading them. I owe you a poem, an email and a HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!
I’ll be in touch soon.