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I spied an old man along the way

With a tattered cloak

He called to me

Where are you today?

 

I looked upon him

and smiled

I am with Moondust

Of soft glowings

Of days that grow dim

Of fires that glow

and of journeys to know

 

He offered  to me

Something precious to him

 A wooden staff

and said….

Those who go in love,

are always free

 

Such beautiful wood

Handsomely carved

I did not understand the gift

The writings upon it

Nor understood

 

What can I give?

He replied

You already did

In small important ways

Those who go in love,

are always free

 

I clasped his shoulder

and shook his hand

Looked into his eyes

We will meet again

In a far off land

A man  in his tattered cloak

Smiled gently ,

and said his goodbyes

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