Pilgrimage

They walk, some wailing, some
with eyes full of ecstasy,
searching, seeing their God
in this journey.

Everything is heightened, every
sense, every mere thing
take on meaning, like a lovers
first rendezvous,

imprinted on their heart and soul.
The air is full of music and incense, full
of color and magic, and most of all
love.

About this poem

The painting is one I did last weekend. I have been thinking a great deal about pilgrimages these past few days, about life being not just a journey through time and space, but a pilgrimage TO someplace we want to be. A journey with purpose. And how, if we make it a pilgrimage, does that add meaning to the journey?

As usual, I have more questions than answers. But then, that is part of my pilgrimage.

Tom