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Apr 2010
I don't ride I walk along roads never lonely along paths always busy
Regrets for company all hopes are companions
nothing behind me a thousand miles ahead
My feet swollen My legs aching like hell
But the ground is as quicksand to stop is to disappear
A departure is irrelevant a destination  is still a dream
What thoughts I find on the path will nourish me
All plans push me forward
Over the next valley more adventures await
Around the next bend more Joys are skulking and bored
Just waiting for me to arrive.
Written while on walk about in Morocco a lifetime ago.
Written by
Zak Ridge
786
 
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