The Journey

There is a path with no milestones

There is a journey with no destination

There are obstacles yet never visible

There are fellow travellers, oblivious

Rather nothing is never obvious

We stride down like a river somewhere

Somewhere Stuck in the middle like a pond

No predictions, no map, no guide

Every sight is intimate as self along the stride

Somewhere we go on pretending

Somewhere we think we can fool ourselves

But we forget,

no journey ever pretends of being a stroll

There is no home, no familiar places

Only Fellow travellers meeting on crossroad spaces

Every sunset and sunrise at the horizon makes us fall and rise

Every dark path smells like death

As if passing from the graveyard cries

Morning rays hit us bringing ecstasy

Promising us the direction on a clean road which we ought to see

It goes on and on

The path never ends

The journey never stops

We make our stories along the way

Until death comes to pass..


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