Yesterday unfolded with a rare and luminous tranquillity, each moment a quiet affirmation of peace. Yet, amidst this gentle unfolding, a singular brilliance shone through – the shared adventure I embarked upon with my daughter, Willow. Our journey was a simple one, a meandering exploration on foot, yet it gifted us with wonders at every turn, as if the very earth was eager to reveal its hidden treasures. It was, in its purest form, perfection.
Our wanderings eventually led us to a sanctuary nestled beside a murmuring stream, where ancient trees spread their protective canopy above. It was there, in the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves and the soothing melody of the water, that we paused. And in that idyllic haven, a moment of profound connection blossomed as Willow, with her innocent wisdom, lent her voice and spirit to the creation of this very poem I now hold dear.
No Path But This
Today,
the world made no demands.
The clock dissolved into the stream,
the stream into the stones,
and the stones into the silent heart of the earth.
We walked,
no destination,
no map scribbled in the mind,
only the slow breathing of trees
and the laughter of water over roots.
My daughter,
a gift wrapped in wonder,
stepped ahead,
then beside,
then behind,
each moment its own universe.
The grass did not rush to grow,
the wind did not hurry to pass,
the sky opened wide, wanting for nothing.
So, we too,
became like sky,
open, empty of plans,
full of everything.
There was no journey but the walking,
no lesson but the being.
Each glance, each small discovery,
a kingdom without walls.
In her hand,
a stone, a feather, a fallen petal;
in my heart,
a stillness that said:
this is the only place,
this is the only time.
We stepped into the unknown,
and found it was home.
