The Journey
“Wayfarer, hail ye! What brings you
along this path?”
“The journey’s call “
“What does it foretell?”
“A beginning, and God willing, an end
“
The traveler blinked as the sun stuttered, falling behind the crest of
the whispering mountain. He turned, paused and speechless. The wayfarer left a shadow as his departure. Little by little,
the sun waned and he vanished.
The traveller continued along the time-worn
course of the river, where ages carved
the contours of the valley. Time sports
its victories, its defeats and its unclaimed medals of this barren land. The traveller cloaked by the encroaching dark
depths of day gone, spied a speck of light, a little, by little,
beckoning, calling, seducing him onwards, onwards. To a destination. To where?
“Is this beginning, or, is this the
end?”
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