Forest Pilgrim: Another Way, Brighter Day

Thick forest, tattered hood in tangled wood,
Walking along well-worn path with long-born grief
With no relief but in the belief that there is an end;
Weary traveler sends signal shouts absorbed
By the trees and foliage, and nothing to see
Beyond the thicket surrounding all around,
And not even the sound of singing birds
Bringing sweet news from higher views . . .
Has he been this way before?
O weary traveler, you cannot ignore
In gullibility the possibility that you’re circling round
And are bound to meet yourself coming and going . . .
Stop here! This is somewhere, anywhere that may be,
And not nowhere; why tear yourself in two
Because you can no longer bear the burden?
There is bound to be a better way this day, some say;
Stay for awhile and rest in nest of cloak and grass . . .
Let some time pass in peace and the war inside cease,
Then look for the narrow road less traveled
By the brook of clear water always running near,
So dear to the pilgrim in thick forest of tangled wood;
See out from under your hood the way up and out
And sooner than later you will shout in daylight
Upon plains lush and bright at the sight of which
You will dance and prance like newborn fawn
In the rising dawn far away from well-worn path
Where heart was torn by soul-born grief . . . Relief!

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