Monday, April 23, 2012


It seems to me that I have lived this way, the safe road, the easy road.
A road of small bumps and low rises - the views are all the same.
I see a man on a another road, far above me, criss-crossing the hillside with a contented stare, he climbs.
I watch him as he falls,
I watch him as he is jeered at by others who are coming down the road.
I watch him get up, nod and carry on.
For on his approach to the summit of this hill, the view he spies astounds him, but that's not all.
For all the beauty, passion and joy that is given to him by nature, in this view is seen by the man a sign, to carry on.
For his road has not finished
Soon its rocky, crumbling surface will bear him down the hillside into a great chasm of stark wilderness and only after this long highway has passed through the wilderness does it lead him to the lush slopes of the mountain, to its forested sides pierced with great ancient spears of oak, to its summit and the feeling that to everyone is indescribable.
On my road I watch in awe, for this road was not made to be just walked upon, for it leads nowhere, yet so close to anywhere.
This road I am on is the inspiration, for it is only by walking this road that the road of the great can be spied and the dangerous threadbare tracks that lead to it can be dared to be tread upon.
I will go, but which track will I dare? And how will I know if it's the right one?
Only one way leads to these facts and that way is within me, and you.

Sep 2000

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