The Path

For quite some time I have allowed myself to become very busy with multiple projects. They all seemed important, but increasingly I am feeling an inner call to slow down, with more emphasis on connecting to friends than on outer work. “The Path” is a very early poem, from autumn 1984.

 The Path
 The path up the Mountain of Destiny
 I do not understand
 All my life I have played a game
 (And in my heart knew this well.)
 What lies before me now is new and strange
 New – because what it is, I do not know
 Strange – because it is different, unfamiliar.
 (Even though I know not what it is
 I know what it is not
 It is not within the pattern
 Of my familiar way of life.)
 Life is becoming serious, earnest
 I have choices to make and a life to live
 Not for myself only but for those I love
 And this love is growing, encompassing wider circles of beings.
 Like the boy reading The Neverending Story
 I am reluctant to jump in
 Seeing myself like him
 Fat, not very sure of myself.
 But unlike him I already sense that I am part of the Story
 And this self-consciousness presents other problems.
 God, I need you now
 You too for me have been a kind of game
 Although easily I have invoked Your name
 It has been a childlike vow
 Or a poetic grace
 I have never seen Your face.
 “No thought of gain”
 This too has been a game
 Now it has to be more real
 Because of what I think, what I feel.
 My poems now are not for a crowd
 They are a way to think out loud
 They are for me and a few close friends
 Who with me are climbing that Mountain
 Our paths are different, but we are not alone.
 Let us share our hopes and fears
 In the coming days and years. 

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