We are the iron

And the dust

The dirt that coats our boots

We are the hawk that flies

Circling in an empty blue sky

We are the grass

The burrs and prickles

The breeze that tickles

The sweating hair at the nape of our necks

As we trudge 

Reaching summits in steep hillsides

Suddenly able to see fresh vistas

In our own souls

Peering into canyons

That have been there since the beginning of time

That we didn’t know existed

Until we reached this point

And saw how they were constructed

The debris at the bottom

Fallen rockslides

Broken dreams

Abandoned pathways

Where the sides were too steep

So we turned back

Finding the pathway through

Taking a shortcut

An easier way

We ran out of time

In this travelling mind

And then it was time to return

The header photo Kings Canyon NT and a trip away earlier this year – in April with my niece – a lot of hiking and breathtakingly beautiful scenery. 

Every time I go away, travel, moving over places that I have never visited before – I see fresh parts of the world but also of myself – most  importantly of myself. 

I think this is why people become addicted to travel, because it exposes parts of themselves either through hardship or beauty or just lost luggage – parts they never knew existed and they arrive at fresh insights into their own beings. 

Many humans were once nomadic, some still are and perhaps this is the purpose of being nomadic. Who knows?  What I know is without travel I could never have grown in some of the places that I have within my own vast interior.

And my life now, without those beautiful spaces and places to go to when I’m sitting and dreaming into a cup of tea safely back in my chair at home again – would be devastatingly small and narrow. 

The header photo: Kings Canyon NT Aust. A trip in April with my niece