Moving to stop.

brown field near mountain under cloudy sky

A long way from their destination, the travelers continued for a very long time. After the last of their maps was lost in the wind, they kept on. They had enough provisions, but nothing of visible progress. Eventually, one among them said, “we’re not getting anywhere.” No one objected.

That night, there was a great celebration. Food and drink were passed around. They joked and argued, cried and laughed, danced and loved. Eventually, everyone slept until it was time to move again. The group continued, arriving nowhere, and spirits were vastly improved. 

Author: Stacey C. Johnson

I keep watch and listen, mostly in dark places.

9 thoughts on “Wayfarers”

  1. I am a woman, a living being, a fragment of the universe. I am both strong and delicate, like the petals of a flower or the wings of a butterfly. Yet, I find myself among countless others who remain blissfully oblivious to the power and beauty that dwells within them. Most people wonder if their life journey is complete, to which I surmise that if one is still alive, it isn’t.

  2. So many of these pieces are part of a great epic that seems to be working within you… you being part of the epic that is writing itself. I wonder?

      1. Chris, this piece moves me to chills of recognition. I lack the words to respond appropriately right now, because I feel so much in it all at once. Thank you, thank you SO MUCH for sharing this here. I know it’s not your style and am grateful that you followed this hunch. This image resonates deeply. (prayer hands emoji)

    1. Chris, I may need to steal that last line (if I ever need to describe a certain developing collection). “Working within” and “writing itself” definitely resonate. Thank you for seeing this, friend : )

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