The Traveler

Rubiyat Poem
The Traveler.
 
 
 
Walking along, stepping in time, on the streets of this existence.
Corner-by-corner, the street signs tell, of all my inner resistance.
Yet turning roads, lead to endings, which now only continues –
and bides my soul, as the street extends, into a forgotten distance.
 
 
A traveler with me, sets my pace, and leads my memory and dreams –
to avenues, of passing times, and places where sidewalks’ scream.
The doorways found, are all closed, forsaking my very arrival.
So I walk onto another street, as the furthering streetlights’ gleam.
 
 
My weeping stride, sings in rhythm, yet the traveler yields no sound,
nor gives me hope, to reach address, or a way for homeward bound.
This companion has drawn, the map of my life, while standing near, relentless.
Never to leave, nor forgetting at all, on streets of the lonely, renowned.
 
 
Time again, we make this journey, and on every enduring depart –
we search for a door, that will open the way, to her love and into her heart.
But the road keeps going, and the horizon is seen, on the edge of time, eternal.
For the traveler and I, there is only time, as the traveler is time, we are apart.
 
 
 
Kactus Berry