The Other Road

The structures were well illustrated

The choices were made after long studies

I was surrounded by experiences

All willing to part with their advice

My decision oscillated between practical and fairy tales

My imagination painted the stories

Traveling with premonition of arrival

In altered reality

I smiled because I took

The road not taken by others

Discovered a deeper experience.

Decisions, decisions

We have daily choices
Though one may prefer to walk a narrow lane
In perfect balance playing an accordion
Color and line are inseparable
Like peanut butter and jam
And most things in life.

Does survival means choosing one over another
Mortals drink from a glass or a cup
But sometimes we become too choosy
Even when selecting between a peach and pear
As if only one leads to imagination
You walk alone thinking of beauty
Among the terror, the forbidden, the sacred

Should we not be in tune within ourselves
To understand the nature’s resonance
The inner calling? Some gather mushrooms
In the forest, others watch the circling birds
To connect with the sacred.

how should I say it

The alacrity of building cairns

or solemnity of putting one stone on top of another

feeling an “overwhelming peace and spirit of oneness”

one doesn’t have to divide the inseparables

or connect the irreconcileables

neither master nor slave

neither safety nor fear, nor pretenders

one is always looking for eggs sewn inside pockets of grass

or “pacing the path above the rocks”

trying to distinguish seeds from metaphors

sands in the world can swirl a storm

sands in the world can build a cathedral

plod on, have no fear for the dragon around the corner

one can find one’s way unaided

I see ahead an elderly couple walking,

holding hands, she half-leans towards him

he limps his way straight ahead

no escape, no complaints, no brooding

experiences are experiences, “are not to be thought away”

an older woman passes me, says

“they grow old but they don’t age”

countless sheltering stars

welcome the flowers of May

the basket of laundry can wait.