The Journey

I am sitting on the couch in my room on a perfect saturday evening and looking outside the huge window of my room.The dusk is falling and the lights from downtown have started appearing, I could see the lights of the skating rink coming to power just now which will be on till midnight.It's such a fun to do ice skating, allthough I haven't done it but I go there to watch other people skating and the ecstatic look on their face tells of the pleasure of skating.I will see if I can post a picture of the skating rink.

Skating Rink 
I think all the flats in my apartment are occupied now cause I am hearing sounds from neighbour's house these days.
I don't feel like writing much today but will post a poem from David Whyte, the poem from which I have taken the title of my blog.I owe an introduction of him if some of you don't know him.

David Whyte is a poet, captivating lecturer, and corporate consultant. He holds a degree in marine zoology; and has worked as a naturalist guide in the Galapagos Islands; led anthropological and natural history expeditions in Peru, Bolivia, and Chile; and subsequently traveled to India and the hinterlands of Nepal. In corporate settings, he uses poetry to bring an understanding of the process of change, helping clients to understand individual and organizational creativity, and to apply that understanding to vitalize and transform the workplace. He is the author of four volumes of poetry.

Here goes the poem,


The Journey
by David Whyte
. . . . . . . . . .

Above the mountains
the geese turn into
the light again

Painting their
black silhouettes
on an open sky.

Sometimes everything
has to be
enscribed across
the heavens

so you can find
the one line
already written
inside you.

Sometimes it takes
a great sky
to find that

small, bright
and indescribable
wedge of freedom
in your own heart.

Sometimes with
the bones of the black
sticks left when the fire
has gone out

someone has written
something new
in the ashes of your life.

You are not leaving
you are arriving.

. . . . . . . . . .