The Walkers
… when he walks across
roads, pastures, mires, hills, slopes, valleys, ravines …
on small narrow paths he walks over roots of trees standing erect swaying to the wind ..
He trods on pine cones, green moss, slippery grass and sharp stones
passing small bushes of blueberries..
that taste of yesterday..
He hears the sound of crickets
but it is his mind he hears..
and much more…
He sees much more…
seeing passing pictures
some diverge yet many merge
to tell him stories of another.
He sees another world
a world-view
a world gone by too soon..
He did learn one fast lesson
many many years ago..
That nearly always..when he walks with others.. he walks alone…
It’s better that way…
‘Cause life organises him
and he guides himself
be it the Straits of Magellan
or on some dusty midnight road ..
He formats… He does things
things differently
standing away, standing apart.
he seeks no fortune
he seeks no praise
as that back broken farmer
toils and tills
until ….
He walks He talks
He thinks he sees his dreams
within himself.
Strange? Possibly …
it’s too late to cross tracks
and shunt his wagon to hitch on
to that long slow train..
as there are flocks of sheep
all moving in great panic..
but there is one
who will stand his ground
and that may be that one sheep
The Black Sheep..
As he walks alone..
He knows..
it’s better that way..
The Bold Black Sheep
The Lone Black Sheep
The Aloof Black Sheep
The Captain Black Sheep
Yes He Knows..
that Black Sheep.
Even with..
The Beautiful Goddess…
He respects her distance
her soft breath and her many thoughts
Forgotten steps over others
the wind and dust has many covers
They both walked alone
yet the canvass weaves their pictures
…those are not for tell nor sell
For often Black Sheep..
…they walk alone..

Vivek [Bonnie] Bhasin
Lefroy
16Aug2020