Tags
becoming, connection, destiny, fearless, grace, gravel roads, living, love, old maps, passion, postmark, restless, soul signature, spirit, star crossed, strength, truth, understanding, wandering
forever was once
we spoke about trying ~
and bought every map
they were selling that day
traced every road ~ purple and broken
back through the night
to the edge of the page
to discover our other
was part of the journey
and whispered direction back home
from the fall ~
echoes to ring
with a music familiar
and moments so tender
we traded them all
for this one to deliver us
whole to begin
bound as a drifter to ways traveled on ~
returning as name to a dream
unrecalled ~
ten thousand miles
to the place we belong
the same as we were
e’en now I confess
of roads worn away
by the passing of time
words without memory
of paths crossed before ~
maps through the darkness
light touching light
tornadoday 
Even the best of maps only point to roads already traveled. The open and untrod are challenging, but offer untold choices and adventures. Liked this one, Bobbie.
xo
Paul
I love that, Paul, and you are so right. I never thought about really, but maps only show the places others have gone. I’m all for the path that no one else sees. Thank you…… xo Love, Me
beautiful, Bobbie…Love, Linda
Thank you so much, my dear friend. ~ Love, Bobbie
I love this, Bobbie. For me, it shows that even though we know others have gone through the same pathways, it is quite difficult to imbibe the lessons they’ve learned — the worn paths are as new to us as the footsteps we tread upon them — we have to go through the paths ourselves, and in so doing, we join the universal story of love, and in these paths that we ourselves have trod, we see the light. Love, Dee
Always, we are returning to our truth, along paths we cleared another time. Thank you so much, Dee. ~ Love, Bobbie
They say home’s beyond the Horizon; they’ve plotted maps of every size and color yet I’ve never spotted one leading there not because home needs no map to be reached but because the Horizon could be beneath a line of our palms if we’re sighted enough to see this close…
Love & Light
Ahhh, home (the horizon). You’re right. There is no map ~ only the compass that moves within our breast ~ steering us home ~ forever north. I love your comment on the lines ~ for I know this much is true ~ rivers roll just beneath our skin. Thank you so much, Mira. ~ All my love, Bobbie
& I love diving the deep beneath your lines…
Much love back
I love that you find them such. 🙂