A Travelers Account

A Traveler’s Account
I
The Start
“The first step is only the most important until the second step is taken.”
Before me there were wars: with people I’d never meet, in places I’d never see, who fought for causes I’d never believe in. Yet I’d believe in their faces, in their forever grim and distant visages of power as long as they appeared on a pretty nickel or dime and perhaps, in the right circumstances, on a penny. I’m not sure if it was the shine or the weight that captivated me, but upon further reflection I ascertained it was the shine indeed.
On the day of my beginning twenty-five dollars and forty-seven cents worth of Lincolns, Washingtons and less identifiable presidents resided in my pocket.
After visiting Wal-Mart and purchasing some spiffy new shoes and a candy bar. My pocket was lighter and wrist watch had let its arm list far to the middle of its forehead an awkward position. And an awkward time to start but anything was indeed possible with a Snickers and a bounce in your step and empty pocket weighing you down.
And so I left strolling down the street. Past the school. Past the store. Past the movie theater where I first learned about life… and death, past the church where I first learned about Hell… and Heaven, Past the treasured memories the were like glowing embers that fought away the chill of…, illuminated the small space…, I knew would stop for them- I dared not look. And I never looked back but I did pick up my pace and I was followed by shadows of light for farther than I’d like to remember, but as shortly that I can’t forget.
To start a journey one must pick a direction. I’m starting out east but, I have feeling I’ll want to go west. So I’m all the more for the east. The sun rises there and it shall carry me.
To where and how far I don’t know. I just hope I’m not high when I fall. I have a feeling I would fly like a rock.
“It seemed my journey had just begun, but already were my shoes dirty. And the were designer shoes! And they were new!”
The Path
The way is lost,
But so am I.
I hum a tune by and by.
My drum beats loudly,
Strongly,
As surely,
And as wrongly
As all other drums before.
There are no signs
And I have no map.
There is no guide!
But I have the stars.
Where I walk
There are no cars.
One step backward to look around.
Three steps sideways to hold my ground.
All the tears that run away,
All the years, day after day,
And the day is so early
That it’s still night!
II
The Street
I was strolling down a street in an hour of the night that is easily forgotten but, remembered all the same. I passed a man that no one can describe, but everyone knows.
He asked, “Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Does anyone?” I queried.
“Yes,” he said simply, “All ya gotta do is look.”
“Look where?” I asked. For I had traveled a long road to get to this odd hour. And all I was was weary.
“Over there.” And he pointed to a nearby alley.
“In that dark alley over there?”
“Yeah.”
“But it’s dirty.”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t want to be dirty.”
“Then be a fish.”
“Are you mocking me?”
“No, I’m baiting you.”
“This is not a joking matter!”
“It’s all a joking matter. And it’s all over there. In the dark. In the dirt.”
“Are you sure?”
“Don’t you want it? It’s what you’ve been looking for.”
“It can’t be. I don’t want it.”
“It’s funny. You looked so long but, you don’t even want it.”
The man laughed.
“It’s not funny!” I insisted.
“Yeah it is. Everyone looks for it but, no one wants it. Isn’t it funny how no one wants it?”
“Why did I look for it if I didn’t want it?”
“I don’t know. Why do you want to be a fish?”
I turned and walked away. I couldn’t stay.
“Looking for something else now, huh? An ocean? To swim in?”
I kept walking.
The last words I heard from him were carried on the wind. “It’ll just be a puddle ya know. Your ocean will just be one big, dirty puddle.”
III
An Ocean
And I did pass an ocean and it was very dirty. And my and yours, his and her, anyone’s and everyone’s broken dreams rested on the bottom of that ocean. And no ones’ dreams were buried there too. And the bright beams of the sun danced here. Whether it was in joy or sorrow remains a mystery.
A Sea
And I saw a sea of dreams never meant be.
I saw creatures out of many a fantasy.
And dared not throw a penny… a wish in
Because surely it would just end up just one more fool’s golden tear
Resting on the bottom of a sad little lake
IV
An Intersection
“And can’t say I ever was or will be where you are right now.”
And now my shoes were muddy and a little bit worn. And the road wavered between shorter and longer in the heat of the afternoon sun.
I stopped at an intersection: a busy one at that. Everywhere people were going and every which way did they go.
And ever so fast did they run to and fro as if their destination was also on the go. And for some that might have been true.
“Where are you going?” I asked a sharp looking man.
“I have an appointment that started one minute ago. Now leave me alone. I must be on my way.”
“But you’re already late… Why don’t you stop?”
“Because… Because I’m late.”
“But you’re late anyway. You could stop and smell something. There are flowers over there,” I paused and pointed to some nearby flowers. I don’t know what they were called but, they were a living rainbow, And they smelled nice too. I then added, “I myself am late.”
“Late to what?” And then he scowled at this glimmering of his dusty curiosity.
“Something I’m sure. I used to have a watch.” I showed him my bare wrist. A tan line and my word was my missing timepiece’s only testament. “But I got rid of it a good while ago.”
“Why?”
“Well I was always late,” I said with a smile.
“And you still are.” He asserted with conviction while asking all the same.
“Yeah, but now I don’t know. And let me tell you it’s a real relief. Besides you never really know if you’re late until you’re there.”
“But I’m late right now,” he persisted.
I sighed. He was late. “Give me your watch.”
“What?” He clutched his gold diamond studded Rolex protectively.
“Give me your watch.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t need it.”
“But I-
-No you don’t. You’re already late.” At last comprehending this a dismayed gasp escaped him. His eyes became so bleak I was prompted to gently add, “Anyway you’re clock might be fast. You might be on time… But whether your clock is fast or slow you still don’t need it. If there is one thing worse than being late it’s being early.”
“But what will you do with my watch?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” he asked, but it was a statement.
“Nothing,” I affirmed, “What would I do with it?”
“I don’t know.”
But indeed did he see.
He gave me his watch and didn’t know why.
“It’s okay,” I said, “You’ll know soon.”
“How soon?”
“Soon enough,” I looked at my tan line, “About two hours from now and two minutes ago.” And because his expression grew more confused I added, “Don’t worry the flowers are still over there. And now I must go because otherwise I’ll be early.”
And I didn’t do anything with it. I left it by the wayside for no one in particular. I would have thrown it in an ocean but, there were none handy. Besides it sparkled rather nicely.
“And I can’t claim to know more than I see if even that. Or see much of anything very clearly or at all.”
V
A Bus
I was waiting at a bus stop in place not so far away for a bus that would take me some where not a second too soon. And the bus was on time to my immense relief.
As I got on I looked for a spot to sit. There were so many people to sit by. Many of them wore watches. I found a place between a man and a woman; there was room for me among the humanity. The woman had a neat digital watch and I noticed that her shoes shone. The man’s shoes they looked like mine. He was closest to the window. I almost wanted to be in his shoes so I could sit in the window seat but, his shoes were as bad as mine.
I was on a bus speeding to some where with no places speeding by when a man to my left asked, “Do you think there’s a point?”
“To what?” I asked baffled. We were only going somewhere that was no place at all.
“To everything. Anything!” He gestured grandly if somewhat vaguely to a passing cow field. The cows did not seem overly concerned.
“Of course.”
“What do you mean ‘Of course’? It’s not that simple.”
“Well, sure it is. Why can’t it be?”
“That’s a stupid question. It can’t be that simple, It’s not that simple at all. It’s a big deal. I want to know if there is a point before the end.”
“I don’t see why there wouldn’t be. Otherwise what would be the point after the start?”
“Don’t you see? It’s.. so… big.”
“Maybe you just zoomed in too much. It’s not really that big. Quite small if you really look. It’s hard to see. If you zoom in too much you can’t really see it either. Either way…,” the rest of the sentence disappeared into the air and hid behind that mindless chatter and determined solitude that is common on a bus. I shrugged, “Not that it’s all that important. It’s too small and besides it doesn’t have a point.”
“It is big deal. It can’t be small!”
“I don’t see why not. And it is awfully small. The dot on a ‘I’ could devour it a million times over and still have room for a celebratory wine.”
“It’s not a joke.”
“Why not?”
“It’s just not something you should joke about. It’s… It’s life.” he said starkly.
“Yeah, but life’s a joke.”
“No, it’s not.”
“If it wasn’t you wouldn’t be stuck talking to me on a bus to nowhere. Don’t you think it’s funny? You wonder if there is a point and I don’t see why there wouldn’t be. You think too much and maybe, maybe I think too little. And see we’re both on this same bus. See it is funny. God’s big joke.”
“Don’t you care?”
“Of course, why wouldn’t I?”
And then he turned away and looked out the window. Searching, looking for something. And all he found were cows. And they continued not to care, of course. Why would they?
VI
My End
Travelers and wanderers are a lot alike. They’re people for one and they both walk a lot. The only difference is a traveler is going ‘there’ and a wanderer is looking for ‘it‘. I met a wanderer once. They were a lot me. I wonder if their ‘it’ is at my ‘there’.

“There are two types of people. Those who see before and those who see after. Well, I guess there is a third. Some people don’t see at all.”

I got off the bus. There are some places that must be reached upon one’s own feet. I walk a ways but, then the road ends. And the road faces the southeast. I guess I was little off. This is fine.
The place I’m in
Has no Wal-Mart
Nor hath it
A need for shoes.
The way hides from
The unwary traveler
While time encroaches on forever.
“Do I hear whispers of eternity?”
To die is inevitable
To live is to see, to seek.
A journey always begun…
… to end somewhere.