It has no markers if we are the first, the originals
It may not even appear to be a road nor a path
The place we are headed may be shrouded in potential and merely a glint that we see
Who cares is a common sentiment voiced by those in life we happen upon
Our only feedback is the lack of interest espoused by those with whom we share our dreams
Who cares about life when there is so much to self that wants attention and gifts

All the books and stories even told and written have bits and pieces of our journey
It is, after all, the way of being, the way to the sparkling light of our collective dreams

We have no guides nor resting places
There are no maps nor scenic view points
It is a hope less endeavor driven by the love we know that summons us
It is about change and uncertainty neither of which offer solace nor gratitude
Each moment causes doubt that challenges perseverance
Without the journey we are just molecules and atoms jostled about

There is no tomorrow nor yesterday
It has always been now
The brain cleverly explains its color and shape with memories conjured to fit
The ego imagines a different now calling it tomorrow and then it waits
The ‘who we are’ enthralled by the ego, listens to the memories and wonders like all wanderers do
Which is me and which is you

On the ‘one day’ we happen upon an other who knows our name
We celebrate the moment with ‘I miss you’
We exchange our gifts and find ourselves bound
Entangled, we begin to grasp the meaning of two
The ‘what if’ is laid to rest buried under ‘perhaps’
Do molecules laugh? Atoms want to know

So it goes this journey
Seeking the mountain that touches inside
The moment plays over and over
Intention and true love cradles thought
Never plays its dirge, while ever pretends to find what it has forgot
Wrapped in symbols, the silence cries out, turn back

Is it selfish to care
Is it arrogant to know
Can we be original when all around us expressions seek our attention
There is only one way to find out