The Wayfarer

It might not have been summer just yet, but it felt like one and it was hot. A lonesome narrow path meandered slowly upon a hill in perfect lockstep with the walker's feet -- as path moved, so did two shoes and a walking stick, or so it seemed.

Destiny, the wayfarer lady, was too tired, fragile, and old. Beside, it was too hazy and quite hot to figure out this mental blur at this noontide. Perhaps a mirage was causing a stir -- is it the person on the path, or the path in the person that carries this mustard seed, which moves mountains under one's feet?  as any advanced soul would care to know, while most would let the question linger and grow.

This old lady, burdened with age of fourscore and three, through aches and pains trekked up some more, with eyes focused on the summit of the first hill all along with two more to scale in coming days. At last, Destiny made it to the top of the first hill and then she stopped! She lifted up her head and eyes in silence to reflect.

As she stood there on a slanted ledge of a new perspective, she took in the whispers of  the wind and smiled. In her mind, she straddled a chasm in time out of the fabrics of today to clothe a new pair of yesterday and tomorrow. Suddenly, with no warning whatsoever, the earth she stood upon shook the foundation of her earthly senses asunder placing her in a kind of fugue state. Thereupon, the path before her eyes rearranged itself like magic and stretched deep into two distinct vanishing points of what's gone and what's yet to come.

This foot traveler, in shoes of half-torn soles and a shaking stick, lifted one foot first and then summoned her soul, murmured something and walked. She pressed forward with all her might to reach the faraway lands, which only seem far from here, but once reached or approached, most travelers turn around, straggle quickly and disappear on their desultory way -- very few stay a trifle to contemplate -- as to what, why, or who brought them here, on the first place. Nevertheless, it must be done. She knows not why she does these things, only knows that she must.

With ears pricked high to the skies while eyes cast low to her toes, gingerly, she put one foot in front of the other and the earth began to move again as if on cue, each going in opposite way from the other; just as always. She straightened out her time-worn and -fused vertebrae as best she could in deference to gravity's downhill traffic-laws. She then commenced her descent down towards the next valley where she'd been before, but long-forgotten. Feeling lighter, down the rambling path she ambled once more as if for the first time in her life. Alas! there are two more hills ahead to negotiate and their corresponding valleys to boot.

And back.

Only to do it all over again; to rise and fall forever more, till she's no more.