A traveler mixes his wine
for a journey to the deep
bowels of uncertainty
He pauses
marking the spot of his entry.
Swaddled within experience
and reaching for his staff of truth
the valley ahead looms in tangible
shadows.
Deep inhalation
and a quick glance to the setting sun
he descends
resolute
The shadows start to whisper.
A chill engulfs the traveller
as the stench pummels his stomach.
A sip of wine eases the upset
and trains his eyes for the darkness ahead
2 comments:
No, this is not autobiagraphical, but i have these images in my head every time i pick up a pen. I just try to guess, or place intent, on why this damn traveler is by himself, in these grippingly dark locals.
I'm just experimenting. I don't know what else to do with the images.
In reading others' accounts
And writing from my soul,
I wonder,
What changed?
From the truths of my father
From the truths of thier fathers
I ask,
What has changed?
Why is it we still search for truth?
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