on my walk...
out in that golden time once more
my thoughts swimming in the air
a million miles away
walking that winding path
with the warm light
around trees and mountains
following it to that dreamed of place
my hand on the gate
Shangri La
In passing, a greeting
a person I know
(rarely happens)
words and ideas tossed back and forth
filling the air between us
we part, going our separate ways
each taking away their own tangle of thoughts
Quietly
I try to return to that gate
but the path is lost
in the darkening sky
and the labyrinth inside
seen
that land of honey
where golden light fills the air
pouring down my skin
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I might know what you mean. I think it's why I walk before the sun comes up so people walking past don't interupt me in my meditation, my searching and my finding. lily
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