See that pilgrim walking slow. A measured tread. On a path of time towards a shrine. Seeking peace, seeking love, seeking meaning, seeking life.
Changing from yesterday into today, becoming tomorrow. Each pace a change, decaying and growing all in one yet becoming new and staying the same.
The dawn brings light from the dark shadows and the sun colours the day. The promise of the day is evening and evening will bring shadows and a new dawn. Nothing is still.
In the seed of the mother sowing the corn is the seed of her daughter who will reap it. The barleycorn will grow and fall and live and fall again.
The pilgrim sees it all and walks with measured tread. Sees also a world with the inward eye that is filled with places seen and people known and dreams of what might be. Sees places that never are and places and people that never will be,
Pilgrim, celebrate, eat the bread from the first cut grain of the harvest to celebrate life and death. Cut and carry the last sheaf of corn to the hearth and plant in the spring and dance to the circle of life. And walk on.
No comments:
Post a Comment