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Dec 2014
I’ve passed a little more than time
While I wore my feet to naught
A hundred lives have been and gone
For what I’ve seen as sport

We trace the steps of ages spent
When men were more than fiction
Simple lives and simpler minds
And faith their true addiction

I’m in a place where stories take
The power of the cross
And though the spires may steal my breath
I never felt the loss

For on The Way I took as mine
A shell and wooden limb
And parts of people, gifts so rich
Made my treasures small and slim

I’ve shared myself with men I’ve made
But will never know from there
I don’t feel sad because I knew
It’s not the whom but where

I’ll never find another day that feels the same as this
The time I’ve spent with just the steps; a special kind of bliss
When all there is to fill your head, the rhythm of the road
Your wishes and your broken corpse make light your mind and load

And now I will be much the same
In the before, the now and then
But there’s a trail within my eyes
That leads me back again

Each sunset and each moon reborn
Is on its own Camino
And every way will one day take
Me back to Santiago
A poem I wrote while walking the Santiago de Compostela. If you want my advice, guys, try and walk it if you get the chance, it's incredible.
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