Poetry: The Road

The Road

It reaches, beckons, pulls,
long, never ending, always
there, always another one,
your private ocean

with horizons ahead,
hopes, love, dread,
a path

to, or from,
at times both,
a path

through rain and snow,
through dark, where
the path

can be seen only as far
as your lights allow,
a path

of trust, that it indeed travels
to the promised land,
again, and again.

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The picture is of a stretch of interstate 95 between Philadelphia and Baltimore. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom