Even into the gloomiest times
I can still see the beauty
But looking deeply into the past
Offers no more clarity
Than looking forward
But looking deeply into the past
Offers no more clarity
Than looking forward
I hold the camera
Steady as I can, buffeted
Enjoying the sound of rushing air
The very brush of existence
Vancouver Island Whirlwind ~ Images depicting my whirlwind writing and photography tour of Vancouver Island
Like beginnings, the endings
Do not come at home
The journey is finished
When we no longer roam
There’s a point when we look back
To recall what was seen
And a little remorse
For what might have been
Or is it just a sprig
An ephemeral growth
A life spanning a single desert rain
Beside a rock worn smooth
By the long dead river
Which cut a chasm wall
Aeons ago
Once under an overturned rowboat
On chill Swedish tundra
Fending off the mosquitoes
For just one more word
Before midnight’s nightfall
And a welcome sleep
But what this writer loves
Is a table, a chair and a view
Overlooking the sea, perhaps
Or a river, and its teeming scene
She came into my life
Throwing a lifeline
In a turbulent time
She will never know
Nor can I explain
To her or anyone
The many ways
Her words touched me
Her songs sang to my spirit
The best journeys, it seems to me, are the unplanned ones, taken on the spur of the moment, reliant on the benifecence of serendipity. I understand why not everyone who travels would agree with this. For serendipity to work, one must believe in it. Listen for its song. Follow its voice when it calls. One cannot do this if plans are laid down like concrete foundations. Planning must be fluid, flow like a rivulet on a sandy beach, as easily diverted as the whim of a child with a stick.
“Ummm, yeah. Yeah!” I stammered as what she was suggesting sank in with increasing gravity.
“Yeah! That would be awesome!”