Do we travel without destination?
Without a plan for the route?
There are those who read the last page
before turning to the end.
But with the first word set down here
the journey begins to parts unknown.
What sights will be revealed
which of the roads will we choose?
To begin the day all grey and still
does not preclude a brighter afternoon
with joy or tears at end of day
and dreams recalled of hope or loss.
You and I embark then to see the end
shall we compare notes on where we’ve been?
No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. No surprise for the writer, no surprise for the reader. For me the initial delight is in the surprise of remembering something I didn’t know I knew. I am in a place, in a situation, as if I had materialized from cloud or risen out of the ground. There is a glad recognition of the long lost and the rest follows. The Figure a Poem Makes – Robert Frost (excerpt here)
