Where am I bound, my feet underneath me
touching the earth just one step at a time?
When I have found my purpose for living
will it be worth what I left far behind?
What is the sound of an unanwered question
reaching the silence in faraway ears?
When I have heard it will it be an echo?
Will I have wasted my listening years?
Who are the teachers ready with lessons,
waiting for pupils yet to arrive?
When I first meet them will I be ready
to learn to study how to survive?
How will I know what is the right answer?
Even the questions seem beyond me now.
When each voice carries and echoes just darkness,
can truth be heard in this world, anyhow?
Why am I wandering the path set before me,
each step in shadow, front and behind?
When I arrive at my true destination
what is the welcome I’m hoping to find?
Where I am going is some place, and nowhere;
maps are illusions, roads are their dreams.
When I stop reaching for definite answers,
everything becomes much more than it seems.
Where I am bound there’s no expectation;
only the journey will be my reward.
When I stop moving, this walk will be over —
then all these questions will plague me no more.
18 JAN 2005
