Walking

It began as any other day,

Tibetans, meditation, breakfast,

The walk down to open the gate.

Different this time for half way

There he fell, flat, face forward.

No movement, no talking.

Strange as it sounds though

He kept right on walking.

To the gate, straight through,

No opening, across the street,

Into and through the trees,

A steady gentle walking.

Walking, no looking back,

Just simply walking.

© Stephen Nesbitt