We are the watchers,the wanderers, the seekers;
the ones who stare
at everything that passes
looking for some sign,
some forgotten hieroglyphic;
a message of love, perhaps,
or of direction --
this happened,
and therefore this must be true;
this appeared,
and therefore that must be the path
-- never realizing
it's not what's written on the life,
or even about the life, that matters;
what matters is the living of it.
* * *
3 comments:
I really like these images you're using. I enlarged today's to better see those bits to the right at bottom. All three images leave me wondering what the story is, who traveled where, did what, how long gone, etc.
Beautiful! Could I post this poem on my blog, of course, attributing it to you?
Thanks, Jan; and, yes, feel free to quote me all you like!
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