Unbroken Road

     I Will find you again upon the Unbroken Road, Whose fiery cobbles sear the soles of Her traveler’s feet. I Will, with dappled dress flowing unto my knees like cascading waterfalls of a flower, with hair so long I billow like a flag of Kings borne in their hands as they are peasant boys sighting, far away, that City—I Will find you again.

 

     Do you know how I smile so? Do you know how I wear age, but with a heart is born? Have you observed my being in a bodily repose, with wet eyes yet alight like upturned crescent moons of no wane? It is a secret the Road holds firm in Her grip. And if you spot clouds dotting the blue, the strong wind’s caress of old towns, the trees in supplication, their very Life straining to rise out of the Earth toward the Sky, then, friend, I have found you again upon the Unbroken Road, Whose path is riddled with bones of stainless gold, and dark bloodstains, and articles of Faith, lost, left, and the occasional prayer, scrawled aside in iron letters, rusted into stone by the cold silver rains.

11/27/2015

Durban

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Endless Writer © Ata Zargarof 2018

atazargarof@gmail.com

BC, Canada