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