William Garza
Veteran Member
- Time of past OR future Camino
- Camino Frances, The Jakobsweg
Who are we?
Out there were mindless hive minded swarm moving eternally west..particles in a wave of humanity unbound.
Are we the fortunate ones? captured-enslaved-enraptured by wanderlust..doomed and blessed to wander the deep places where the soul rejoices among kindred.
What we are IRL isnt as important to the moment as who we become amongst ourselves.
Out here..in the real..we become what we truly desire.
Rubbing elbows at tables between king and pauper
Snoring beside the humbled and exaulted,smelling their feet across the room and hoping to yours are beflowered and bereft of eye stinging vapors....
I found myself a prisoner of my desires early
A product of the boundless optimism of the 60s and seventies...to be out..deeply and fully among the empty..finding that at the edge if stars, the big empty is really the Pied de Port...the stars get in the way of how fast you want to go in the deep dive .
But the intersteller...the deep black bottomless-formless abyss, is simply the shore to perfect freedom. Out here, freedom is a fearsome thing
To let go and step off onto the path... demarcation between
Them
And us...
Who are we to desire the empty spaces?
We fill the spaces between the earth and eternity with our wanderings
Are we an idea made flesh and breathed into form by desire?
This is why strangers smile deep into the miles i think..we are..being.
Out there were mindless hive minded swarm moving eternally west..particles in a wave of humanity unbound.
Are we the fortunate ones? captured-enslaved-enraptured by wanderlust..doomed and blessed to wander the deep places where the soul rejoices among kindred.
What we are IRL isnt as important to the moment as who we become amongst ourselves.
Out here..in the real..we become what we truly desire.
Rubbing elbows at tables between king and pauper
Snoring beside the humbled and exaulted,smelling their feet across the room and hoping to yours are beflowered and bereft of eye stinging vapors....
I found myself a prisoner of my desires early
A product of the boundless optimism of the 60s and seventies...to be out..deeply and fully among the empty..finding that at the edge if stars, the big empty is really the Pied de Port...the stars get in the way of how fast you want to go in the deep dive .
But the intersteller...the deep black bottomless-formless abyss, is simply the shore to perfect freedom. Out here, freedom is a fearsome thing
To let go and step off onto the path... demarcation between
Them
And us...
Who are we to desire the empty spaces?
We fill the spaces between the earth and eternity with our wanderings
Are we an idea made flesh and breathed into form by desire?
This is why strangers smile deep into the miles i think..we are..being.
