THE TRAVELER’S EPIPHANY

I pack a rucksack
with nuts, fruit, some
bottles of water,

and set out on my
journey. I know my
destination and do not
need a map:

I have the sun, moon,
the stars to navigate
by. But I have

been walking for three
days and still have not
reached my goal. Yet
it does not matter

what I let guide me:
I realize I have reached
my goal step by step. I
want to reach the ends

of the earth; they are
ever-present. I am
fascinated by the horizon;

I can see it, always
changing, shifting. So
I sit beneath a tree, eat
some nuts, an apple,

and drink from the water
of life. I do not need
to move to reach my end:

it will always be here
until it is not.

When I was younger, I used to take such walks, having grown up in the woods. Now, due to health issues, I can no longer do this. But I can read those who have; I can watch people do it. And I can write about it.

And in this poem, I imagine Thoreau following the Buddha, living in the moment, not the future. We are all one.