TRAVELED

Once traveled

    looking back is a

         smoke-filled window.

Once traveled

    The smoky windows rattle their endless resentment at the windy changes.

But...The changes

      The rattles

          The smoky windows

               Oh, how sweet their receding motion.

                     Oh, how sweet to breathe the air of the uphill movement

                             of struggling roots

                                  of rustling branches

                                        of open spaces crying to be filled

                                            with visions

                                     with excavations of the mind

                               with tempestuous truth

                         with directions into endless detours

                   with paths...trails...roads...

roads to be...once again...

TRAVELED