The Lost Way

The Burren, Ireland - photo by J.R. Forbus

from the Manual of the Perfect Pilgrim

At fall, the Way abandoned my heart, leaving me stranded.

(You can always tell when she wants to be left alone!)

Yet somewhere along the road, the Way paused and reconsidered.

Rolling out for many miles like a carpet,

she enveloped me in her spires like a loving mother,

singing lullabies in every language,

both new and old.

"There is no destination but the journey itself," they all said.

When the songs ceased, I awoke.

As I gazed at the horizon,

I saw the dawn freeze, eternally flooding the world with light—

born forever.

So time ceased to be.

A thousand years passed,

and my heart – tickety-tack, tickety-tack –

finally struck that endless moment.

I, too, was to be born forever.

by Jason R. Forbus