The Journey
The Journey
The journey has been long,
the path has been narrow,
the afternoon is shortening
and my destination creeps closer.
I walk on.
The path still strolls ahead of me
and no matter how fast I travel -
that fact never alters.
I move off now as clouds bundle above,
an acting audience to my every step
perhaps comparing my journey
to what is to come…
with past travellers?
The path now smooths around a corner
and hills suddenly rear to mountains,
mountains that soar and tower
like gigantic, herculean creatures.
And there, at the base of these verdant giants,
sits the house, alone and seemingly lonely!
The path now is bored and wanders off
so I amble on towards my destination
while the house winks with lucent whiteness
and a spark of red - offers a door.
I draw closer, distracted as I note
a sinuous slither of smoke
sliding out of a finger of chimney.
I watch as it twists, thins, and tapers upwards.
My thoughts now attempt to sense the house,
observe its emotion, recognize its mood
when suddenly the spark of red…. scrapes slowly open
and a worn shoe with woollen hand edges into view!
They both stop as if hesitating, knowing their place,
allowing the mountains to move closer, to loom down...
and a distant memory now shivers my spine.
Ian Souter
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