Wandering

My heart is wide open like this river
with its dark green moss swaying in the deep swift current.

Urged forward with a primal impulse that makes us wander…
everyplace becomes home, people are familiar strangers.

No map to figure out where to go.
No plan, agenda, or destination.

I wander in the tradition of the Buddhist monk, of the devout pilgrimage faithful
open my soul, test my faith in humanity, myself.

Religion is each step I take. Outside of churches; institutes of higher education, into life, under the trees, in the mountains, under the open sky.

I hear a calling
a whisper from those who came before,
from all those not yet born …
seeking someplace more than home, something greater than myself.

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