Path of the wanderer


Path of the wanderer


I am never ever too long in a place to call home. Walking where ever

there is a path, made by humanity in a city or somewhere out there,


a path made by peasants of a village, or their beloved animals.

Sometimes the path is long and so arduous that it would literally
ground you down like an eraser at the end of a pencil.
If fate is kind and your side, the path brings you back to your
birthplace, where you find solace, and comfort in the familiar. 

After a brief spell, it is time to go again, the paths to the unknown come calling. The feet are yearning; the blood is thirsty with wanderlust, till it is time to sleep and dream even as I put on the akasic veil.

 God Bless You

May all be well with you

DMD


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Sarasota FL

Sarasota FL This land of the first people, the native Indians, was called Sarasota. Today the city dwellers call it “Paradise.” It is a cruel joke flaunted by the city of wannabes  and social climbers, who clambering to get their mug shots, in glossy magazines. With all the greed, avarice and under handed deals in this town, it is the devils playground, and many a souls depart, as the corner pronounces death by misadventure. The origins of this sweet, innocent town called Sarasota are unknown and shrouded in the fog of the bayou backwaters. Historians think the word Sarasota is part of an American Indian language, which meant Point of rocks. It sounds dangerous, if you are on a ship or on shore. Another old legend suggests that Sarasota means “Place of the dance.” I wonder who all were dancing at this party, I wasn’t there. On the map of 1763 this land mass was called “ZARAZOTE. “ The name itself sounds even more dark, threatening, and very ominous. It could be anythin...
Read more

Made in America: Do your eight and hit the gate

Made in America. Do your eight and hit the gate.   I hear the whistle blow? So hit the gate, quick hit the gate, don't slow down, pick up your feet, head for the gate, you have done your eight. Here comes the man with his overtime bait, don't stop, don't stop just hit the gate. He will tempt you like the devil, he will mess with your mind, and fill it with guilt, you just hit the gate. You are the donkey and the company man has the carrot. He will get what he wants from you, but you will never get the carrot in front of you. So when you hear the whistle blow, don't take the bait, don't slow down do your eight, and hit the gate. Just hit the Gate, and now you are free. Where is the union man ??? He left you and now he got the job doing the eight. God bless you May all be well with you DMD
Read more

MEMORIES OF A FUNERAL

Memories of a Funeral. It’s well past midnight. I sit beside an oil lamp in a city that sleeps late, as we all ponder the events of today. It’s the last hurrah of summer and the shadows of winter have crept in ever so slowly into  this season of despair.  We were robbed by the death of a beloved brethren, and this closed and tight community feels the loss of terribly. We are what we are, and who we are, and then there is the family, the neighbors, and friends. Who am I to the departed, I still don’t know, but I am here to say  “Goodbye.” Early this evening darkness came early, and grave diggers were busy at the cemetery plot. I could smell the freshly dug earth, and when all was said and done, as we all stood around I could hear the wooden coffin scrape the sides of the grave as it gently settled at the bottom, in the bosom of mother earth. I turned towards my sister and whispered in her ear, “he was very old, we are still very young, and we have a long way to go. “ he ...
Read more