Midday Camp


A new and fresh poem I wrote, for all the friends.

midday camp

What kind of proof do you still need?

You want the lights of paradise,

an oak too bold, too frail a reed,

a hand to hold, a roll of dice.

From days of old your paths still linger,

crushed and bitter paths of pain-

amazed and soft, of love harbinger

in deserts with the dream of rain.

We cross the roads of neverending

from dawn of world, to find what’s lost,

to find again the understanding,

to find the way that matters most.

Stop, friend and wash the dust away,

this day we stop just for a while-

we drink this water and we stay

in contemplation of a smile.


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