There are words, probably as old as time that meander around the human mind.
Wondering of meanings big and small that are scrawled on parchment papers, caves and cathedral walls.
What is the purpose of this and that - and why does my heart go rat, ta, tat; when joy comes near and calls my name; these things of wonder are never the same.
The call to other and unknown lands is eased when hope takes me by the hand.
The answer of all, I cannot say - except that there always is a way.
A way of wandering, that may be, but the way of adventure - is yet to be seen.
"You don't know if you don't go", has echoed in my mind -
making changes to my meter and my time.
Going to the new does not excuse the known;
but confirms the real, the dear - and who really is my home.
The words as old as time still pace, dancing a tango that seems out of place.
My wandering and wondering big and small has an answer, after all.
No matter the journey, no matter the fall;
my call is for love - and love is my call.
Feb 15, 2020
Copyright Tara Lamont Eastman
Wondering of meanings big and small that are scrawled on parchment papers, caves and cathedral walls.
What is the purpose of this and that - and why does my heart go rat, ta, tat; when joy comes near and calls my name; these things of wonder are never the same.
The call to other and unknown lands is eased when hope takes me by the hand.
The answer of all, I cannot say - except that there always is a way.
A way of wandering, that may be, but the way of adventure - is yet to be seen.
"You don't know if you don't go", has echoed in my mind -
making changes to my meter and my time.
Going to the new does not excuse the known;
but confirms the real, the dear - and who really is my home.
The words as old as time still pace, dancing a tango that seems out of place.
My wandering and wondering big and small has an answer, after all.
No matter the journey, no matter the fall;
my call is for love - and love is my call.
Feb 15, 2020
Copyright Tara Lamont Eastman
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