It began with a journey to start with.
A cold wind blows from the moors,signals 
The approach of rain.
A season which stops and starts- 
I travel;but to nowhere really.
After a death there’s not much left-
We’re spent.Locked down,there’s more disquiet there. 
Still,the season tries to turn,
Held back:I’m holding back.
Someone once spoke,’It’s ordained,there is one entrance to life,but many exits.’I’ve seen a few.
Many stories;my story.
Other lives and mine entwined as
We journey together. 
Pilgrimage sharpens the mind.The focus is inward,a self assessment of Who I am,procurement of what I really need, not what I think I do. 
When stripped of all we have,there’s almost
Nothing left.
We’re rather visible, translucent with a  paper-thin exterior
-God knows.
Whichever route we choose-
The Camino de Santiago or staycation at home,change comes.
Renewal builds energy and strengthens relationships,defining 
Who we are to be. 
Have I seen saints along the way? Do you see them?The coffee seller yesterday spoke of lamentations and moving on.A doorstop interchange.
Snatched conversations with people are more open-a simpler life,
Purer somehow and less tied up, hindered by stereotype or lack of Expectation.
Clocks spring forward.
I move forward with the Ressurection journey too.
Awakened and fresh, renewed with  poignancy and vigour- immediacey.It needs to be; we have one life,and to
Live it to the full is what draws us home. 

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