The Journey

The Journey

Not to hold oneself,

But to learn—a loose leash.

The soul, a beggar dog leading

Through creeks and meadow dances,

Valley sleeps and hill lunges.

It tugs to narrow bends,

On expressways, manic with speed,

To sip coffee in nooks,

And cities that never breathe,

To hostels where bread breaks 

And stories weave into a tapestry.

Let experiences come—

No gate, no judge.

Every misstep, a necessary stumble,

Every ill-timed pause, a moment’s destiny.

Through it all, the heart navigates—

A compass spun by our blood's own lore,

Unfazed by the misadventures

Of getting lost or the myth

Of the wrong time.

We are magpies in the world’s shimmer,

Picking bright bits,

While others recount their own raids

Into the luster of living,

Their hands holding out their sparkle.

Then, as friends huddle

And soups cool on parted lips,

Open wide the heart,

And with a joy unstinting,

Sing the roads you walked alone.