Traveler - An Original Poem
The wind blows low and onward,
Over the hills forever
It whispers of a memory,
And brings the evening rain,
Seeps from far mountain,
Flows through mist and earth,
Caresses grass and limb
And breathes an ageless sound.
Traveler, whither do you go?
Among the hills and clover,
The wind forever with you
To journey unalone,
Remind of tree and valley,
Bed by laurel and vine,
Dream of inky sky
And tell stories of far off lands.
The wind breathes on your shoulders
Through moss, through leaves and stone,
It wanders to the water's edge
And sighs of life and love,
Tells soft of all that is,
Croons of days passed by,
Sings of what is gone
And tells me I'll see you again.
May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind always be at your back
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
The rains fall soft upon your fields
Until we meet again,
May the world hold you in the hallow of its hands.
*Final stanza taken from an old Irish blessing