Feet with dust

Caked in cracks

Of calloused heels

Layers of skin memories

Tell of time

Spent walking, going

And coming

But mostly going

Away, and Memories peel off toes

Though blistered and scarred

Drawn forward, follow compass

Guided by magnetic field

Of unknown

Having learned the answer

Is always out there

Beyond bend

Around corner

Past horizon

Which will only be reached

By a long sequence

Of first steps

The next right one, not clear

Til the murkey water from the prior

Is settled, with patience

And listening

And stillness

And breathing deep with the waves.

 

Each step

Just as bold as the last

Just as scary

Just as essential

In the process of becoming.

But the more these calloused feet

Take step after step after step

The more it is clear

That reaching the horizon is not

The point

For the horizon is a fleeting myth

Made up by ones who claim

There is an end to be reached

In this life

You will not be satisfied

Til you get there

Can you not see

That the thrill of horizon reached

Is as fleeting as the clouds in the sky above it?

It melts away within moments

Revealing yet another horizon

Looming with temptation in the distance

Just out of reach

And you must now journey to it, you say,

For no, it is this horizon, you are sure

That will bring fulfilment,

And you embark, yet again,

On your never-ending pursuit

Of happiness.

 

But happiness is not found in horizons.

Happiness is found in the making

Of callouses on feet

Formed only by the step that can be taken

Now

In this moment

For everything you hope for in the horizon

Is found in the space of the stepping.

 

The point of all this walking

Is not the arriving

It is not the horizon.

It is the learning

It is the listening

It is the being

It is the becoming

It is the growing

And it is the going.

Cheers to the Journey, and may our Spirit always reside in a state of wonder.