A DUSTY ROAD, a Poem

I met a bearded man on a dusty road

and asked him for directions

to a better place, a place where wonder

would be common as old jewelery in a drawer

dark but potent with beauty

He smiled within his walk

a steady pace

a fluid ceaseless motion

that declared no single place

was enough, that movement

alone produced adventure and truth

And how will you conduct yourself in this place

if I give it to you, a gift born of wonder itself?

I was not ready for this question

I had expected another

If you know not what to do

with the destination, he smiled,

you had better focus on the wonder

of your walking

My feet are magic enough.

For countless thousands of dusty miles

they have carried me from nowhere

to somewhere

looking with quiet lack of interest

for moments of brightness

in the potent dark

The trick is to keep the dust

swirling

behind you.

© clark cook

22 Sept 2012