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The
feet of a pilgrim, steady as it might seem,
Can
weave on sands, lost and directionless,
Made
dusty by the desert storms
They
too, like the broken compass,
Remind
us all of what used to be;
In
a desert, I saw an abandoned pair of camel sandals
While
feeling it in my palms, I wept
Another
pilgrim, lost and buried in the sand-dunes,
Must
have met his death
The
sandals spoke of his life
They
were old and torn,
Evidence
of how used they were,
On
top of it, there were some beadworks
Strange
it seemed, the desert offered such magnificence
May
be he circled round and round,
Looking
for an oasis
May
be, just maybe-for the thought chokes me-
A
violent storm buried him,
Or
maybe he kept still somewhere at this spot,
Resigned
to his fate, his life cast to the desert
Or
maybe he just walked on and on
Conscious
of the dissipating energy
Yet
happy to be a traveler, nonetheless
I
really wouldn’t tell
But
these camel sandals
Is
a labyrinth to his soul.
# In response to Poets United's Thursday Think Tank #102 Labyrinth.
8 comments:
I'd like to think whatever the fate that it was met conscious yet happy.
Oh this is lovely, Salem.......especially "happy to be a traveler, nonetheless"....as are we all, kiddo.
I like the way you tied the labyrinth in at the end.
I am also most inclined to follow this. Yes. The idea resonates well with me. Thank you TUG.
Koko, we are all travellers. Symbolically, we are conscious of all our little decisions. Thank you Koko.
Thank you for visiting the hills, Annette. And thanks for your observation. You are most welcome any time to these sacred hills, pilgrim.
Beautiful tribute to a lost soul...
Thank you so much Ella. Yes, to a pilgrim lost...
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Echoes of the Hills is all about you. I would love to hear your echo...