The Stroll

A poem

We step into all gladness. And all pain.

For there is no difference between them.

We take our leave as we entered, innocent and unblemished.

We remain pure.

Love and all its accompaniments, remains our faithful companion.

It is all there is, in the end.

We take it with us, we draw it in like breath,

to sustain and solidify our path ahead.

Even now, there is no turning of the head.

But there's still joy, loping lightly alongside the sorrow.

Because at last there is peace, despite what is unknown.

Travel on softly. Do not be afraid.

You will never be alone.