Travel (to Ralphie and Sheila)

As I continue on my journey
I’m beginning to travel light
Preparing myself for tomorrow
the distance is out of sight

my suitcase is old and tattered
backpack is old and shattered
shoulder bag is not leather
imitation, I do think

waters of clear crystal
how I long to drink
threads breaking loose, unravel
many steps left to travel

so many things are idols
I don’t need anymore
I’ll understand it better
when I reach the other shore

learning to clear my pathway
for tomorrow is a better day
burden of this life
will suddenly wash away

in the stillness of the night
I’m beginning to travel light.       

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      1. A poet can’t be in disfavour,
        he needs no awards, no fame.
        A star has no setting whatever,
        no black nor a golden frame.

        A star can’t be killed with a stone, or
        award, or that kind of stuff.
        He’ll bear the blow of a fawner
        lamenting he’s not big enough.

        What matters is music and fervour,
        not fame, nor abuse, anyway.
        World powers are out of favour
        when poets turn them away.


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