we struggled to get here,
to the west coast of america
we were drawn like the pioneers were drawn
and we threw in our old life
such as it was
we sold and gave away our stuff,
managed to get a long visa
and, with barely any money
and riding the tiger
of impermanence and insecurity
we arrived….

but after these last few years
of continual change
we have become torn open
and we are now pretty lost
and still searching
for something…

it’s a strange thing to be found and lost
at the same time
we are like mystic urban nomad misfits

and wisdom is the day you realise that
life is a journey that never ends…
it just rolls along until one day it’s done

sometimes i get weary of all this
and long to just lay my head down
and sleep for ever
i get tired of the human obsession with self
in others and myself

i’m not as optimistic as i used to be

but, like everyone else,
i keep putting one foot in front of the other
and dangling carrots of hope
just far enough
in front of my face 
that i walk on..