The Successful Traveller

The seed of a goal is planted in our hearts.
Across leagues of a sea of sorrow, the sky arrives.
Pilgrims return home
and, with wonder, see
that nothing in the world has changed.
 
The urge to seek and to embrace is so intense
that if one has knowledge and desire,
life feels complete.
But the quests scatter—
the road turns to stone,
and the unlucky walk on hard ground.
 
Their muscles slowly grow stronger;
their strength gives them the illusion of peace.
No one will keep a place for normality
in the innermost chambers of the mind,
for they have seen each person is different,
and must walk through a path filled with thorns.
 
They know life’s worth
can be bought only with sweat and blood.
On this fragile, perilous road,
in the shade of trees,
time moves forward unnoticed.
In an unknown land,
their home lies behind them.
 
Mountains rise sideways,
astonishing all;
in the rainbow sky,
vultures tumble,
searching for prey between afternoon and evening.
Water rushes over stone—
fresh and life-giving
to a weary soul.
 
In a moment’s stillness,
a traveller rests in the shade,
passing through small, pure villages,
marvelling as local people
go about their daily work—
labouring in the fields,
their sweat turning into seeds of life.
 
The wonder of each life,
the truth in all nations—
that everyone shares the same longing,
driven by daily necessity
to reach their destination.
When told grand tales of a glorious future,
they feel deceived.
 
Yet in the face of wonder,
they thank God
for only this much—
the certainty of food, clothing, shelter.
Through reckless, restless times
and death-defying labour,
they carve history in pride—
the successful traveller
who has gripped tightly
the reins of a strong body,
who has stepped far,
out of mere flesh and blood.
 
That history turns
and runs towards the future—
on anxious feet,
swiftly moving—
always remembering:
the higher you climb,
the purer and sweeter the water becomes.
 
But the farmers never remembered those words—
to grow crops in their soil
they need salty water, dirty mud.
The taste of pure water
brings fear to their minds.
 
He is such a traveller—
who has never walked
towards yesterday or tomorrow.
His orbit is the present;
this moment is his own.
A successful traveller—
who has never walked
with the false aim of living a lie.