The Trackless Path

Let go of everything you know

And everything you think.

There are no formulas

Except to Hear Him.

The railroad man goes on and on,

On and on goes the railroad man,

From place to place 

And on and on 

He goes

Without stopping.

And without a home goes the railroad man

The railroad man goes on without a home,

Because his home is every place.

Yes, every place is home to the railroad man.

Can you understand it? Probably not.

Because you’re not like that,

Are you?

But that doesn’t matter. 

Because the heart of the railroad man 

Is broad like every place.

And in his heart 

Is a home.

Will you choose the home that’s in his heart?

And let your heart travel far and wide 

Upon the beating heart of the railroad man?

If so, then truly you will travel far.

And you’ll have a home

In every place.

A home in the heart of the railroad man.

It rained and rained last night,

Great sheets of rain, nonstop.

I am from the west,

I am not used to that. 

But I’ll adjust.

I love how wet it is, and wonder,

Will that last? The love of wetness,

For a while at least. But for now

It is so nice after so many years

Of the mountain desert.

There is a little town and wholesome

Where they’ve sworn off technology,

And people love each other and God.

I like it there. And if it weren’t for the call to wander,

I might just stay. All the same, I wonder

If I might just make it my home base,

For a while at least, until it moves.

Sure. Why not. I cannot find a better place,

And though I have not forsaken my cell phone,

I doubt that I will find a people so in keeping 

With the simplicity of my soul.

Reputation is nothing,

For it is almost always tarnished

In the service of transcendent good.

So let them drag it through the mud,

And content yourself 

With the approval of immortals.

The factory man goes to work each day

To spite the fact that he knows it’s not enough,

For the factory man is a family man.

He wasn’t “smart enough”

To refrain.

And so he’s rich at home

And poor when it comes to the bank.

All the same, he keeps on going to work each day.

And one by one the bottles pass his way.

And he counts them and checks for mistakes,

Day by day. The factory man. And that’s the story.

There’s not that much to say. And yet, I cannot help

But sing his refrain, for he is the mass of men, not the exception,

To spite the fact that the movies don’t make it look that way.

The Giant of the Great Rock Face

Sits nestled in between the tribes of the North

And the tribes of the South

As an ever-present reminder

That war is not the way.

And of a Sunday,

The people of the surrounding towns

Come and picnic in his shade.

I am stopped along my path - a place to wait. 

A place to organize and ponder, to reflect.

And the rain beats down.

And I wonder,

What will the summer bring?

I once thought that I could plan my life.

But, more and more, I relinquish my hold.

I surrender to the road, to the path that leads my soul

From place to place. And I don’t know what it means or where it goes.

But somehow I trust the thing that’s coming

Even though I have no idea what it is.

There are potted flowers at the entrance of the supermarket

An early sign of hopeful spring. And someone

Is asked whether she still breeds the kind of pups

That he once bought many years ago.

She does not, “But call me,” she says.

“Alexander has a dog that he’s thought of giving up.”

And he says he will.

And all along the upper half of the wall, there runs,

Like a ribbon, the route of old Highway 66,

With the cities listed one by one.

And right in the middle of the line

Sits Tucumcari, the almost proud little town

Nestled nearly halfway along 

The once-famous highway leading down

From the windy city to the sandy beach of Santa Monica.

And would you guess, that the people there are just like us?

That’s how it seems anyhow. And I am grateful to have stopped.

Two things seem disconnected

But are inseparably bound,

Your creative work

And your means of livelihood.

The first is the way you serve the world,

And the second is the way 

The world repays you 

For your generosity.