So I was reading Paulo Coehlo’s blog a few days back and thought I should re-blog this poem by Saint Roch:
Wanderer, your footsteps are
the road, and nothing more;
Wanderer, there’s no road,
the road is made by walking.
By walking one makes the road,
and seeing behind the vista,
one sees the path that will
never be travelled again.
Wanderer, there’s no road,
only waves in the sea.
(Antonio Machado)