So many things he thought he’d see
And do have come unraveled;
It’s not how far he’s gone that counts,
It’s where and when he’s traveled
For though his route was pure and planned,
He ended up on detours,
And went the way he had to go:
That path, his only recourse —
The glamor he once sought is gone.
Down dusty roads, and graveled,
The few who knew him will recall:
That’s just the way
He traveled
To share is human:
Reblogged this on Peter's pondering and commented:
Quite how Owen knows so much about me I have no idea, but he’s crafted my story brilliantly!