amorfati1
Veteran Member
- Time of past OR future Camino
- 2014_Caminho Portuguese (Lisboa to Santiago_4 weeks in May)
with best and warmest wishes to all for a Blessed New Year New Day each day, 2018 -
C.
“Finisterre” BY DAVID WHYTE (@WHYTEDW), SPECIAL CONTRIBUTOR
The road in the end taking the path the sun had taken,
into the western sea, and the moon rising behind you
as you stood where ground turned to ocean: no way
to your future now but the way your shadow could take,
walking before you across water, going where shadows go,
no way to make sense of a world that wouldn't let you pass
except to call an end to the way you had come,
to take out each frayed letter you had brought
and light their illumined corners; and to read
them as they drifted on the western light;
to empty your bags; to sort this and to leave that;
to promise what you needed to promise all along,
and to abandon the shoes that had brought you here
right at the water's edge, not because you had given up
but because now, you would find a different way to tread,
and because, through it all, part of you would still walk on,
no matter how, over the waves.
This poem is excerpted with permission from Pilgrim by David Whyte. For more poetry, visit our Poetry Radio Project.
https://onbeing.org/blog/finisterre-2/
and ... if you like to continue...
https://onbeing.org/blog/david-whyte-everything-is-waiting-for-you/
https://onbeing.org/blog/a-new-life-i-must-call-my-own/
“Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet / confinement of your aloneness / to learn / anything or anyone / that does not bring you alive / is too small for you.”
C.
“Finisterre” BY DAVID WHYTE (@WHYTEDW), SPECIAL CONTRIBUTOR
The road in the end taking the path the sun had taken,
into the western sea, and the moon rising behind you
as you stood where ground turned to ocean: no way
to your future now but the way your shadow could take,
walking before you across water, going where shadows go,
no way to make sense of a world that wouldn't let you pass
except to call an end to the way you had come,
to take out each frayed letter you had brought
and light their illumined corners; and to read
them as they drifted on the western light;
to empty your bags; to sort this and to leave that;
to promise what you needed to promise all along,
and to abandon the shoes that had brought you here
right at the water's edge, not because you had given up
but because now, you would find a different way to tread,
and because, through it all, part of you would still walk on,
no matter how, over the waves.
This poem is excerpted with permission from Pilgrim by David Whyte. For more poetry, visit our Poetry Radio Project.
https://onbeing.org/blog/finisterre-2/
and ... if you like to continue...
https://onbeing.org/blog/david-whyte-everything-is-waiting-for-you/
https://onbeing.org/blog/a-new-life-i-must-call-my-own/
“Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet / confinement of your aloneness / to learn / anything or anyone / that does not bring you alive / is too small for you.”
Last edited:
