Pathways
We cannot remember the start of the journey.
We cannot know its end.
We know the direction, but it goes through wilderness.
The pathway frequently yields to moor, or rocky barriers.
The pathway is sometimes lost in fields of bracken.
We are cutting the path by advancing, and hoping we are correct.
Sometimes we see markers left by those who went before.
We know that there have been false turns.
We can brood on those errors.
But better to get back on the path, to keep going.
We leave markers for travelers who follow.
We leave markers for friends we will never know.
The goal is far past the ridge-line before us.
It is over the crest of the hills we see beyond.
Far away, snowy peaks are gleaming.
The pathway lies over them all.
Do not be downcast.
Our companions on the journey make it possible.
Our companions on the journey make it worth the march.
I really like this poem. Thank you for sharing it.