To the Pilgrims

When Nature starts to Speak;
weaving dreams failed to fit us in
clouds dancing in repeated scheme
with so many things required we're tired
life's a mere routine, repeated in time again

passing through footsteps made by somebody
that sparkling lights in the sky will soon say goodbye
it's another day - what's new? still in the same way
does our lives mean something amongst the things living?

try to follow what your heart calls for you
dance to the silent rhythm within
for you to find a place
and land into a place, destined to you, not for someone else

each shall take his steps, but how can we decide
which way to go, do we need a guide?
or we will wait for a star and give as the light
to find our dream, the greatest dream of our very life

when the road i take bends, i don't know what to find
will i be meeting a friend or ghosts at the crossroads of time
or shall i be surprised that someone has been with me to guide
giving me direction in disguise


you are the voice that echoes in my dreams
why don't i follow you as you call me within
to find my place - reserved for me, not for anybody else /written by reymund b. flores. copyright 2011

Posted in: poetry