There's a road that doesn't interfere with the land
it's part of it, it was born rather than made
not an inch by man's hand paved, not a tile that was laid
it twists across acres, it ricochets off lakes
it is a wayward way
it's the only way I am willing to take.
See I was born on a full moon with nomad's blood in my veins
I can grow fond of a place the urge to move still remains.
You might have seen me on sandals or met me on trains
I'm that stranger in town who was gone the next day
there's no telling where I'm heading
if only I knew
but each time the sun rises the road starts anew
sometimes a track or a trail, just a line in the sand
concrete slabs, bars of iron that cut through the land.
I need to move, to still my mind
to practice the art of leaving behind
to find what I need before I knew that I did
each day learning to trust on intuition and wit.
Cause that's where this road goes
it flows through the heart and the soul
it grows with each barefooted step on its soil
connecting the drifting, the shipwrecked, the uprooted
the lost souls in need of fresh air for their minds, polluted.
People that I meet are like spring leaves for my believes
making me see clear where before I was deceived.
Grievances cleared, not cherished like treasures kept
unreal dreams I felt so deep as I slept.
See, the road is worthwhile but it's a challenge
and I salute those that rise up to it
when faced with hardship get deliberate
it takes courage to confide the intimate, doesn't it
but muster up that courage
release the fear to flourish
cause we all have a heart to nourish.
And so I move, to soften mine
though my body may be embedded in time
my spirit will remain the journeying kind
so that one day you will find me beyond this world and the next
clutching onto half-gods seeking an invisible path
and I will stand there in the stillness, beyond space and time
capable at last of quietening my mind.
But until then I move to still my mind
to practice the art of leaving behind
cause every piece of land is a chapter from a different hand
some read a single strand and claim to understand how the story ends
oh sweet road, what arrogance
the only claim I make is ignorance
and all I hope to gain is innocence.
That's why I walk along this path
shedding my possessions
banishing to jetsam stagnant fears and old obsessions
cause that's where this road goes
it flows through the heart and the soul
it grows with each barefooted step on its soil
connecting the sailors, trainhoppers, overlanders
the backpackers, beatniks, the seekers, the stranded
people that I meet are like spring leaves for my beliefs
perceived as clear green when trees rise from their sleep
but mere messengers of something so deep it defies belief
and that's the stuff that we need.
See, there's a road that flows in a most natural way
and those that know it know that it is here to stay
and though I have staggered and swayed it never led me astray
I live by this way, and when I die
tell my friends it was only the road that led me away.
© 2011-2014 Arne Brasseur
