Song of the Open Road



I love poetry.  And today, my fingers just don’t want to fing.  I have a message.  It’s in my  head.  But as I sit to fing it out, I just can’t put a sentence to my thoughts.  So today I leave you with this.

A poem, by Walt Whitman

Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy and free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,

Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querelous criticisms,
Strong and content I travel the open road.

The earth that is sufficient,
I do not wnat the constellations any nearer,
I know they are very well where they are,
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.

(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,
I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go,
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them,
I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.)

Much love,

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