Off the Road

All things are beyond the road and sea.
Distances longer than the pacing feet.

How I yearn to share tea in the hot shade,
wet heights that carve through dry air.

The curling tongues that paint sounds
as colours on the hard stones in the wall.

The clouds, so far above, gently passing
without the usual threats of cold.

Up to the peaks, with their thin breaths,
eyes that drink a fill of the world.

Down, through valley heights, where
water meets the slow grumbling earth,

endless rush and flow, against the rocks,
back and forth, back and forth.

New paths, trod by ancient feet, waiting
for the fresh winds to blow past.

Faces, covered, emerge from the dust,
carrying their difference in a sack,

opening palm and pocket for a drink
in the empty share of a road side.

All things are beyond the road and sea.
Distances. Longer than the pacing feet.

off-the-road

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