On the road
towards a vision, the end not in sight,
fighting
fatigue I drove through the night.
The blacktop
unending, its white line in spurts,
my eyes
glaze over with a film of road dirt.
Over the flatlands
with sweeping tall grass,
the horizon
seems infinite, unending and vast.
Down the
valleys both luscious and green,
through counties
and cities most losing their sheen.
Over the
mountains past boulders and curves,
Destination
is certain, an arrival time not so sure.
Scorched by
the desert with its stately cacti,
the horizon
still beckons as it touches the sky.
Journey’s
end comes of a morning while tired, and spent
asking is this
trip’s inspiration really heaven sent?
Over breakfast
and coffee I admire the view,
And wonder of
discoveries as I plunge into the new.
(Found this among some of my scribbles, dated 1994. I wrote this not long after arriving in Arizona.)
