William Garza
Veteran Member
- Time of past OR future Camino
- Camino Frances, The Jakobsweg
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The Whisper....
A soundless that can be deafening...
is it amazing, mysteriously clinging...
Those who hear, didn't listen...
but the deaf understand the calling...
How many start out to begin anew
How many to carry on
How many
To find an end?
Maybe we should have a permanent resource thread for poetry...? This stuff is REALLY good.
Just thinking out loud....
I agree and think it is great! Keep teasing us!William and Yaying, you folks are teasing all of us...
This really spoke to me. Thank you William.Pilgrim
I have walked a different mile
But each and every mile is a smile earned.
Leave your past behind you
Leave it on the Way
Leave it for the fates to find
Leave it for a another day
The Other pilgrims find them
The Other pilgrims say
The Other pilgrims walk beside you
Each and every day
You may have walked a mile
You may have walked a day
You may have walked the thousand
Each and every way...
But did you leave that darkness soundly
Each and every day
Cleansing soul and mending heart
With the rising of the Way.
Be Blessed Pilgrim on your way
So you saw them, in the dawn, misty figures, glimpsed, never fully seen, always in the corner of sight, a faint shadow,
You saw them in the vastness of the Meseta, a wraith in the infinite space.
They were there in the mountains, dim figures crossing the ridge ahead on winged feet, briefly at the edge of the eye and then gone.
No sense of threat, no Puck, no jester, just a figure glimpsed and lost.
You heard them in the woods, on the edge of hearing, lost when you listened, but around you, a susurration in the undergrowth.
A faint sound on the wind.
I know you saw them, you left them your offerings, the balanced stones, the boot on a wayside marker, stone and stick patterns on tracks, a bunch of wild flowers and reed woven on fences.
New altars, new offerings.
It was good to do so, to acknowledge them, to respect them, as you walked this thin place between worlds.
The old Gods, the Grey Folk, on the wild edges, forgotten in the your urban rush, on the edge of myth and legend, but they not forgetting you.
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