At this moment time stops still,
To take a breath,
And then move on again.
We pass through,
On our way from birth through death,
We meet and part or remain
No signpost at the crossroads,
The classroom is empty,
The paper plain.
We are children before the sun
And grow old,
Let loss be its own gain.
Throughout time people have gathered at places where the well travelled roads turn into
less well trodden paths; at the sea’s shore, at the edge of the forest, at the
foot of the mountains. Here stories can be shared, songs can be sung, those
just setting out can meet with those who have already taken some steps on the
less well defined paths. Some are looking for someone to accompany them for a
while or point them in a certain direction; others just want a place to rest
before continuing their own, more lonely, explorations. Some stay for a long
time while for others it is just a place to pass through, it doesn’t matter the
place has its own rhythm; the journey has called on all who pass that way.
The nature of our exploration has changed; the quest has become less concrete. The
journey into the unknown has turned us away from the mountains, the forest and
the sea and has turned us inwards towards ourselves; but the need for these
meeting places remains. Today’s travelers also know that at some point there
will be no paths left to follow and that
the journey onward will be on their own unique path that none has taken
before them and that perhaps they will
sometimes need to find a place to rest, discover new inspirations, and share the company of their fellow travelers.
Perhaps you have stumbled across such a place by accident, perhaps you knew it was there
but couldn’t find it, perhaps it doesn’t exist yet. But the necessity of these
places remains and it is for some the only hope .