The Rambling Road

{A Road can be the formed river-bed or stretched outback dust track or the fresh smelling new tarmac city lane}

I have caught moments when light was at its purest and the road stretched before me
And I have had time to sit in the sunken wilderness and appreciate the silence
In both places I had listened for the whispers on the breeze
And let the swollen message emerge as a guide embracing me.
I have slept under the stars a thousand times and been awoken by the warm invade
I have took risks and stepped on the edge of bliss and exile
In all places there was a reaching and a pleading
There was retreat and attack
Passive times and overly I-centric times
All constructed and maintained by the desire for bread and wine.
The road led me where she wanted like a spider hanging on a thread in a light wind
At times she comforted me and at times she confronted me
In all times she left questions unanswered
In all times there was something down that road.
When the road ends and we find ourselves in a close
We question whether the road has gone on without us
And yet the road does not lead us but we lead her
And so she waits, she sleeps, expectant and hopeful
That one day I will sample her bread and wine and be her new place of abode
As darkness ever seeks the light on the rambling road.


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