Life Is A Sacred Pilgrimage (Prose)

Looming somewhere In the shadow of yesterday— Ever so near and yet so far— There is, for each of us, An all too familiar period When a tiny spirit had just embarked Upon an incredible journey With many miles ahead. What excitement: The wonder of a little soul With awe-inspired eyes. The shape of tiny hands and feet. The babbling of a tender, wee voice. And all the advantages of innocence. But where would such a journey lead And what was to be encountered? The end and exact sum of days Was anyone’s guess. Every aspect was concealed Until spontaneously revealed— One by one by one. Each speck of detail was to slowly, Respectively and painstakingly manifest Only at its appointed time. But looking back on all those miles (So personal and endearing) , Encased in memories carefully tucked away At the end of each day, But readily accessible For whatever time and purpose— Be it twenty, forty or sixty years Down the road—is priceless. Life! What a journey. And fortunate is the traveler, Whose journey proves to be long, sweet And gloriously intriguing to the very end.