Vast, it occurs to me, is the difference between
journeying through a place
and sojourning in a place.
In the former,
the place is a point between the beginning and ending,
the start and finish of my movement;
thus, a place, a land in time and space, with a people and a history
that I, a semi-interested tourist, may or may (probably) not notice.
For, as a pass-through from my necessary alpha to my predetermined omega,
it is only a point along (and never the point of) the journey.
In the latter,
the place is the point of the ending of my travel.
For once I enter, I have arrived in my destined time and space.
of the newest commencement of my re-discovery of the people and the history.
Today, I sojourned through the land of my mind,
from left to right, I wandered –
along impossibly endless analytical and analogical trails, that
with my every step, turning, twisting, reshaping themselves
in ever-new, endless directions –
and I wondered about,
on one side, the incessant flow, the flood of words and numbers;
a playground for my linguist-logician
and on the other side, the dizzying kaleidoscopic, colorful palette of visions,
some of recognizable shape,
yet all, on either side, surging toward me,
demanding, as every living thing paraded before Adam in the garden,
that I name them.
For these were…these are the images of my people,
the stages of my history in time and space of my past being
and my present becoming,
and, in that surest self-knowing, my eternal emancipating.