Internal landscapes travelled, traversed.
No maps to guide me, no chapter, no verse.
No guided reference to tell me how it will be,
when I open the dam and the past is set free.
No hand to hold in the still of the night,
no angels appear to ease me my plight.
No gifts no feathers no signs from above,
no one to hold me, no one to love.
No break from the journey no prize overall,
no one to answer when your soul it does call.
No time frame, no closure, no sweet destiny.
Clearing and moving to set my soul free.
Many triumphs and failures many nights spent in plight.
No one to call in the midst of pure fright.
No voice to sooth or ease all my fears,
no hand to wipe just one salty tear.
Alone in the darkness of my inner terrain,
held back from life in my earthly refrain.
Many doubts, many tears, many realisations and years.
Much weight has been lifted transmuted and shed,
as ego looses its power in my head.
As I gaze in the mirror, my eyes I can see,
but whom is the person gazing at me.
I know not my purpose my life or its force,
only that I AM one connected to source.
Nice poem to ponder. You are both traveler and mapper. Yes doubt and despair is part of the process.
Thanks Shervin, its an old poem this one. ive come along from this and yet at times find myself coming back to this place from time to time...such is the journey :)