Compostela..

       Compostela..

I cry tears for Santiago,

for the weeping is not vain.

I cry tears for San Tiago,

in the light of love I gain.

Here a pilgrimage of ancients,

brought me to know a truth.

Walking across Meseta plain,

I recaptured the oil of my youth.

How many seasons I'd forgotten,

before I walked the way of saints.

How many seasons I'd forgiven,

to live free of a life that taints.

Go again to Saint James' rest,

be all you are and more.

Serve no more the infantile,

show convictions room and pain the door.

They came in droves to see,

a myriad of pilgrims in prayer.

They came in droves to be,

a brotherhood where souls can dare.

Ten thousand more, a million,

as stars set upon the sky.

The new millennium of the Milky Way,

bring a fresh tear into my eye.

Go follow thy heart in memory,

to prevail the walk of the few.

Go follow thy heart in mystery,

where so few had known of you.

Love is all I ask you for,

you have come my way before.

Stretched out across a star field,

see the faithful come once more.

Click Icons Below.

http://www.caminodocumentary.org/

Thoughts taken from re-reading Paulo Coelho's 

'The Pilgrimage.'

Enjoy the Silence

Enjoy the Silence

Over mountains, valleys and streams,

A wave of people still come.

Of their dreams they seek hope,

This way shall recover loss.

Loss of belief,

Loss of desire,

Loss of the strength to go on.

And as they rise and shine,

The silence of the mornings,

Brings them into a tranquil place.

For here, many hearts beat again.

In the quietness of the journey,

Many souls are being saved.

As blisters heal, pains endured,

The challenge now becomes mental.

Can you outlast the nagging doubts,

That boredom shall bring upon?

But as sure as sun rising again,

The spiritual man,

Will enjoy the silence.

‘Walkers of the way of St James’.

Avenues

Avenues

This road is long,

Lined with trees of colour.

Colours to make you weep….

Leading far into the future,

A future of pleasing promises.

Where promises don’t come to nothing….

Broad lanes of discovery,

Leading me into a fiction.

Where everything becomes possible….

Behind only the cul-de-sac,

That shows no route of escape.

To where my spirit is free….

Watch me go now,

Come with me on this journey.

Friends, we can all be free….

What am I doing here ?

What am I doing here ?

As the realisations begin,

Nearly always I hold on to doubt,

About what I am doing here.

The seasons roll on bye,

Ever seeking, always bringing clues,

So why am I no clearer now ?

One might say I’m searching,

And of course it holds a truth,

Yet if so, when will come discovery ?

I’m not about to despair,

Or say I’ve not enjoyed the ride,

I only wish a new comprehension.

And when the journey’s over,

Will I know the wisdom I seek ?

Or will time have fled as well ?

Days of Solitude.

On the road ahead, one of my own choosing,
I know already, the way will be tougher than most.
Not just because of the rising landscapes to come,
But for the time alone, almost no-one to meet.

Of course passing through there will be people,
On whom I hope to share the days ahead, with.
But few will be walking alongside me to Santiago,
Other routes becoming popular, this road so quiet.

So I pray for help in the tranquility of solitude,
That I leave despair behind me, in Zamora.
I'm told of the beauty this walk will bring,
So will be in paradise, even if I'm alone.

IMAGINE

Wouldn't it be wonderful,
To wake each day to peace ?
No sounds of gunfire ringing,
Children laughing, not crying in fear.

Just because we are greedy,
By nature not wanting to share.
But here on this Camino,
Are we not seeing this love ?

Do we not feel its real power,
When we recieve such kindnesses ?
I for one know its truth,
For the 'way' has let me observe.

So please dear pilgrims, new friend,
Take home with you this Camino.
Share this experience of peace,
Imagine a world of peace and love.

( Your memory still lives as if you had only just left the room)

DONE TOO MUCH..

In the days leading up to the present,
I feel sure I exceeded a limit of normality.
But of course I know, nothing is ever, just normal,
It is an amount of all, that is greater or lesser.

Having persisted ´til now, means I failed to quit,
When a wiser man, surely, would have rest before now.
Desire overcomes the sense, and the will has a laugh,
When the body says "no!" and the mind pushes on.

Why do I continue, when I really should stop ?
Before the pain rises, and I cry from the blisters.
Because I dare say, I am filled with a hope,
That before the last mile, I will realise my dream.

Come home to the faith,
My sacrifices are valid,
In giving me release,
From the sins I commit...


The road to Santiago.