When I travelled to here and to there, I was tired of thee, O Road, but now when thou leadest me to everywhere I am wedded to thee in love.

What you are you do not see, what you see is your shadow.

My wishes are fools, they shout across thy songs, my Master. Let me but listen.

The Perfect decks itself in beauty for the love of the Imperfect.

The infant flower opens its bud and cries, "Dear World, please do not fade."

Power said to the world, "You are mine. The world kept it prisoner on her throne. Love said to the world, "I am thine." The world gave it the freedom of her House.

The noise of the moment scoffs at the music of the Eternal.

Asks the Possible to the Impossible, "Where is your dwelling place?"
"In the dreams of the impotent," comes the answer.

"I am ashamed of my emptiness," said the Word to the Work.
"I know how poor I am when I see you," said the Work to the Word

written by  afrikawasbeer on October 19, 2009 from Nouakchott, Mauritania
from the travel blog: Traveling Africa Overland
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inspiring,thanks bro!

written by  Lorraine Fieuw on October 20, 2009

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HI WALTER,

SEEMS YOU HAD SOME INTERESTING EXPERIENCES ALREADY ON YOUR TRIP. THE PHOTOS LOOK GREAT. HAVE FUN IN THE SUN
LOVE YOUR DAD

written by  PATRICK FIEUW on October 20, 2009

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