William Garza
Veteran Member
- Time of past OR future Camino
- Camino Frances, The Jakobsweg
They all died more times than they could count
All the petty gyrations and machinations in their cities
Each one...
Dying
For they are in their winter
Dry reachings,like empty branches in cold winds whispers
You can hear them...if you stop and listen...to them
And their stories
They
Are our stories
Awaiting the coming of spring once again to shoot green and bland things
As they have done
They...have done.
Yet slouched under winter grey and precisely 18 per-cent...in color skies they dream in summer and the language of flowers
They are the first
Idle thoughts in cafe,chair and choirs motions...
The
Idyll thoughts..of shedding thoughts and skin and into...
Breathing sounds
Tide unbound
Away from winters sounds
Of slouching home once again
Once again to grasp the feeling of living
Of hot and moist thoughts...so fertile grounds for the journey
And they are no longer dying
They count heartbeats until the turning away and turning to...the Way
And once again rough Pilgrims bloom to the road
Inexplicably drawn like dandelion seeds
Is it gravity
Or divine breath blowing west
Or is it themselves that launch into the urgent breeze blowing them toward Santiago
And they are no longer dying
They are living
Pilgrim
Stop thinking of going
And be about the business of going....you can deny yourself daily for a thousand years an hour and still not feel alive until your burning feet are cooled by walking
Be Blessed
All the petty gyrations and machinations in their cities
Each one...
Dying
For they are in their winter
Dry reachings,like empty branches in cold winds whispers
You can hear them...if you stop and listen...to them
And their stories
They
Are our stories
Awaiting the coming of spring once again to shoot green and bland things
As they have done
They...have done.
Yet slouched under winter grey and precisely 18 per-cent...in color skies they dream in summer and the language of flowers
They are the first
Idle thoughts in cafe,chair and choirs motions...
The
Idyll thoughts..of shedding thoughts and skin and into...
Breathing sounds
Tide unbound
Away from winters sounds
Of slouching home once again
Once again to grasp the feeling of living
Of hot and moist thoughts...so fertile grounds for the journey
And they are no longer dying
They count heartbeats until the turning away and turning to...the Way
And once again rough Pilgrims bloom to the road
Inexplicably drawn like dandelion seeds
Is it gravity
Or divine breath blowing west
Or is it themselves that launch into the urgent breeze blowing them toward Santiago
And they are no longer dying
They are living
Pilgrim
Stop thinking of going
And be about the business of going....you can deny yourself daily for a thousand years an hour and still not feel alive until your burning feet are cooled by walking
Be Blessed
