The Inn

Walking I reach the shore and I stare at the evening sea,
with the waves moving to and fro, and I sense, once again,
that I've nowhere to go.

But still I must go.

There is no room at the inn.
So I will try another, and another, and another still.
Perhaps one night I will find a welcome sign
and a warm glow through a window.

Here I stand at the end of the year
with a story that nobody wants to hear.
It is that all things move:
the stars in the sky, the waves in the sea,
and the love for you that spins within me.

Nobody wants to hear how the going
makes life so dear:
from the womb to the grave,
through cheerful days,
and fretful days
and loss.

The road is long for me, for you, for us all.
We remember, we forget, we remember again,
but not all.
If you should think of me,
remember that I go on,
from doorstep to doorstep.
Until I should reach another sea
the going is all there is for me.

Traveler

I love you more
than you will ever know,
than I could ever show -
far deeper than the ocean
in the moon glow.

 

But every word I utter 

brings you just grief.
So our time in the world
was fleeting and brief.

 

Alone I have left you
with peace in your mind.
Alone I shall wander,
searching to find

a face in the world
to match you.

 

There is a love that for you
the years hold in store.
But my path, traveled far,
ends in a cold, distant shore.
Here I stare at the stars
and shout til I'm hoarse - 

but the heavens show no remorse.