Journey to the cross-roads (London)
A river flows in each and all, whence matters not;
meanders, never tarries – ‘round nook, past bank,
every stream tributary a meeting, every rill a parting; and every waterfall a leap of faith.
Yet it flows still; rock, sand and silt
naught for itself but the promise of the open sea.
If thy cometh this way, by any road; at any time, in any season
drown not in wont! oft bittersweet are devices fate smote astray
and avarice is but a rill trickling to a lake.
Seek not love, but for the sacrifice it endows
love not charity, but for the goodwill it sows
thank not gifts, but for the prayer it bestows
naught for itself but Hope.
Happy New Year to all, and may blessings of peace come to all mankind - in our time, and the next.