the white path before me

With so many people leaving for Christmas this week I am getting the itch to travel. To get in my car and drive until I can't go any further west. To drive and drive and drive until the road weariness comes over me. To drive and see the sun rise in one state and set in another. I haven't been on a good road trip in a very long time...hmmm...were that I were a bird, I would fly away.

"Song of the Open Road"

Afoot and light-hearted, I take to the open road.
Healthy, free, the world before me,

The long brown path before me, leading wherever I choose.
Henceforth I ask not good-fortune—I myself am good fortune;
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Strong and content, I travel the open road.

The earth—that is sufficient;
I do not want the constellations any nearer;
I know they are very well where they are;
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.

All this thinking of traveling led me to this:
(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens;
I carry them, men and women—I carry them with me wherever I go;
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them;
I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.)
You road I enter upon and look around! I believe you are not all that is here;
I believe that much unseen is also here...

~ Walt Whitman


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