No road so long
you haven’t walked it;
no path so obscure
your feet have not trod it.
One never knows where one might find wisdom
in your wanderings.
You keep Your eye open,
and you walking stick ready,
and your stride is strong and swift.
I do not know you
–none of us really knows you—
but there are some things you allow us to understand,
and that there is no trail you will ignore
for fear of missing
the knowledge it might lead to,
that is one thing you have given us to know.
You might meet challenges on the road,
but they are hardly threats,
and those, too,
offer up their own sort of wisdom.
Those who know only of this face of yours
might think you spend
your entire life on the road,
and they would be wrong,
but if the tales are even half-true,
they are not wrong by much,
and it is a worthy attainment.
The roads whisper your name
from the mouths cracked into the pavement
and the cobblestones
and the dust;
they know who owns them
(as we all do)
and when your son’s thunder roars overhead
and the rains pour down,
the hiss of the water against the road
is a prayer to you,
a hymn to your will and your seekings,
and that prayer is one
we all sing in our hearts
every time we emulate you
when our feet touch down
on a path
–no matter if new or old—
to walk it to where we must go.
All Their Voices 