for the better part of seven years
Followed by an abyss in my shadow,
always there, and promising Nothing.
What kept me going was a sound that I followed.
It came from somewhere far off in the distance
Beyond the edge of the horizon,
But I followed it aimlessly for better or for worse
Never stopping for fear of falling backward
into my shadow.
And now,
I have reached the summit of a mountain
I did not even know I was on.
I look down below me and see people
on one side cursing my name,
mixed with people who sing my praises secretly
so that they may not be heard.
They pray for my return.
On the other side,
I see a city, a quiet city
With a port and olive trees in the provinces.
It beckons me closer, it beckons my return.
But there is time enough yet for that.
I am tired and have traveled many miles.
The rocks have dispersed my shadow
So it has become indiscernible,
And I no longer fear the darkness.
I will rest here a spell,
under this overhang just below the summit
And record what I have seen,
and meditate on silence.
There is no more need
to listen back to what I have heard.
I hold that sound now
in my heart,
in my head,
and in my hands.
This is a time for forgiveness,
and quiet contemplation.
I have wandered alone
for the better part of seven years,
And my journey is not yet complete.
It may be harder
to go down the mountain
rather than up it.
To not be able to look down,
and see all those hostile familiar faces.
To be Unable to follow a sound
or be chased by one’s own shadow.
One is tempted to stay at rest
just below the summit.
But I think there’s a shortcut to that city.
No longer do I wander alone,
I have a destination,
and I have a song
That I sing with the silence,
and the sun,
and clouds,
And every rock and reptile that crawls upon it.
I have a home and a bed, and a wife and Love.
And friends who come for dinner,
or for tea on my balcony
in a strange land
far from here where I now sit.
It is so far away,
But there is a short cut,
And no one knows of it
but me.
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