The journey is what takes me
Movement forms the art of letting go
Destination may be the purpose
But it is the travel which lets me know
I did not rise so so early
To be truthful I was feeling rather down
Raindrops and wind pounded at my window
I felt to be on somewhat unsteady ground
When it comes to fight or flight
It is always the fleeing which I run to
When it comes to the clarity of insight
I know I am so so easy to see straight through
Fortunately I have the writing
Which I can use to take me up up and away
No longer constrained by my physicality
My imagination becomes the place in which to play
From the misused chlorine cells of water treatment
On those wasteful West Indies islands
To the inert gas generators built locally and sent
To be installed on fuel transportation stands
Overalls which didn’t fit quite so neatly
Not reaching my steel toe-capped workman’s boots
But I made progress year on year completely
Found my way to pass the ball to he who shoots
Always it was and is the journey which takes me
Progression the faith I pitched my cap at to follow
Destinations only halfway then the purpose
It is the experience, which forges the letting go
