Pilgrim

Pilgrim

All of us are pilgrims on this earth. I have even heard it said that the earth itself is a pilgrim in the heavens. Maxim Gorky

Your journey never ends -
each step the first step,
each step the last step.

You move, but stand still.
In stillness you move through the valleys.
You feel you can move mountains.

You walk all day to a familiar place,
a place of coming and going,
a place of crowds and crossing points,

a place of no signposts.
You wait among the crowds,
watching for signs and signals.

One face among many,
you are alone, but not lonely
among the unfamiliar faces.

You are rootless, but at home
among the sharks, the snakes
and the snake oil salesmen,

though you would rather be in the desert
living on locusts and honey,
turning stones into bread

and water into wine.
You are rooted in the earth
like a tree whose twigs

and branches are crooked paths,
webbing the heavens.
You are the wellspring,

the stream and the river,
the delta, the ocean,
the shimmering destination.

You are all of this
and yet you are nothing
but the weary pilgrim,

arriving, departing,
following blind-eyed
the desire path of sorrow,

the dream path of desire,
up the steep hill,
past rowan and thorn

and the fourteen stations.
Each step the first step.
Each step the last step.