I have trodden
I have trodden the garden path of my soul and I cannot fail to remember
How my spirit became so innocent
As I walked in the twilight of the fading day as it made its way for night’s subtle light.
How effortlessly I stepped amongst the bracken and the cycads, forever green
And how I seemed to glide over the irregularities of the stepping-stones
Beneath which lay the dried, crackling leaves of yesterday’s glory.
Or how I passed beside the moss covered granite rocks
And became spiritualised above ordinary thoughts.
I may be in the midst of a city
And yet feel as if I were in the forest of tranquillity, far away
From the insecurity and noise of civilisation.
Such is the randomness of the uninhibited spirit that can produce such feelings of serenity.