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Saturday, 24 November 2012

The Traveller

Tired is the traveller, tired of the detours,
the diversions.
Endless directional changes
for no apparent reason.
Tired of returning to the
same
lonely
point in the road,
The same fork, forever leading back
to the same
lonely
spot.

That singular moment in time
when the paths led somewhere,
but not now.
Roads that lead to nowhere
once promised rainbows at their end.
But the opportunity to choose
was lost
And dissipates slowly with
each beat of the heart,
each sweep of the hand
on its circular path
a constant reminder that the traveller is
no
further
forward.

Constantly searching for
a new path
a new way
a new life.

Truth arrives at its destination unexpectedly.

“This life that you chose,
that you travelled,
that you maintained;
is of your making.
Yours alone,
through your decisions
This is what you are,
this is what you made.
The journey begins now.”

© Fergus Martin
2012