We spend so much of our lives
imagining we are en route,
always on the way to somewhere
if often not certain where that
somewhere might be.
It seems we intensely dislike
not being in motion, not focused
on the future, the destination,
never wanting to be, seeming
to dread being static.
Yet the irony is that we,
at any given moment, are
never en route anywhere
for we are, in each moment
if we are in that moment,
exactly where we are,
en route to nowhere.
It is hard,
painfully hard
to realize
your guide
doesn’t know
where you
need to go.
And the one
who could guide
you isn’t
there, doesn’t
know you
at all, had
you when
she could
only place you
for adoption.
So you wander
guideless,
self-guided,
deeper into
the unknown.
The problem with roads
is that they all must lead
somewhere, and if lucky, with
other theres along the way.
I prefer roads that have
no beginnings or ends,
that go where they will
and change direction on a whim.
On my roads you never
arrive late because there
is no point at which to arrive,
so you are always timely.
Friends laugh when I say this,
say such roads cannot exist
at least until I point out
that life is just such a road.
Somewhere in the world
at this very moment,
something remarkable
is being laid to ruin.
It is our nature to tear down
what we cannot understand,
what we hold different,
what does not comport
with our present view
of how things ought to be.
Somewhere in the world
at this very moment
something remarkable
is being born,
is being created,
is arising
out of an idea,
a thought, an emotion.
We are all
somewhere in the world
at this very moment.
He finds it hard to believe
that no matter which path
he chooses, and he has chosen
so very, very many over time,
each path seems always
to lead him to one particular place.
The place always seems the same,
here, though he knows it should
be different each time he arrives.
It frustrates him no end, but
he is growing concerned
that one day a path will
lead him to somewhere
that is not here, and he will
have utterly no idea
where to go from there.
an old writer and his words 