A Quest Poem

We met in Salida, to go on our Quest, nine men, not sure what to expect, but we will give it our best.

Some are here to explore self, and the demons incurred, others the past, and the light that was blurred.

Others were happy with where they were at, yet still wanting more, nothing wrong with that.

To be a man of honour, noble and true, that was our calling, and also our due.

The weather was a mixture of sun, rain, clouds and blue sky, just enough to challenge, not enough to die.

Some of us were looking for answers for a father whose love we could not deny, but at other times, were we good enough in that man’s eye.

These were some of the questions to which we wanted answers as we made our place in Nature, our eyes, hearts and souls open wide, to the beauty of raven, and to find our own stride.

We called to the moon, we rattled to the earth, we drank liquid sunshine, to quench our burning thirst, that seemed never ending, as we danced with ego, until it would burst.

We salivated through our dreams of the dark nights of the soul, for the morsels of food, not for our bellies, but to our spirits cries of hunger, and answers to questions of soul.

As we made our way along our path of ridge top, valley, spirit and soul, we knew that this was our last night, so we would have to be bold, though more likely, we would only be cold.

We danced, we sang, we laughed, and we cried, taunting the night skies, and our dreams with our sighs.

The stars cast a glow in the heavens above, and our hearts were with beauty, and appreciation, towards those that we love.

Love for ourselves, our brothers, lovers and friends, did we pour out our demons and try to make amends.

And as the long night of the soul, began to lighten in the East, we looked forward to return and the immovable feast. Not to the feast of food, love and support, but to the men that had nurtured, and never did thwart.

The Quest draws near its closure of beginning and end, to my soul and spirit I am beginning to mend.

Where do I go from here is the question that burns in my belly, of being and soul, but not until incorporation will I ever be whole.

Bruce Wilson June 2019