walking the path...
uphill, downhill,
winding amid the rocks,
leaving behind

footprints in the sand
that the wind erases...

sometimes side by side,
often alone... with no map,
no compass to point the way.

it's different for each of us;
no one else can do it for us.
this journey of the spirit
discovering itself...

and that which we call 'God'.

often lonely... we fight our way
forward for those moments
of epiphany.... when all of life
appears in a dropp of rain...

or a child's tears.

walking the path,
sun shining on my back...
a few clouds float unchained
in the limitless sky....

they, too, pilgrims going
to the feast....
walk with me?

Eric Cockrell

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-path-55/