The Journey Begins

It wasn’t till I wandered away and lost concern
about what was thought—some said I sold my soul,
others claimed my heart was stolen or that I just didn’t care.
It was on a chance meeting in a foreign land
that a Gypsy held out his hand and blew dust from his palm …
When I rubbed my eyes, I could see again, like when I was young.

Now the spell was cast and I could see both ways:
Coming and going—with a chance to recognize
my craving for inspiration. Yet all is well if I am uninspired;
with the grace of patience, given the wisdom of time,
inspiration is always there for those who are giving.

Unconcerned by the direction of malice
left on the road by others—first searching inside and then out,
with scrutiny, I have never before understood
and with the dust having settled on the path I have traveled,
now I know that what is given is the key
to who we are and what we are able to see.

It was as a traveler in a new land that I recognized I was seeing
for the first time again—just like a child in awe of everything.
As the future becomes the present and soon fades into the past,
I never want to be that old again when I can be young at heart,
wise in time, giving away inspiration in order to be reborn.

Opening image and poem to Gypsy Horses and The Travelers’ Way Published 2006
John S. Hockensmith