A Pilgrimage Journey

by Philip Brady

That was a magnificent evening he said

Addressing no star in particular

On its rotation round infinity.

If there was a better superlative

I would have used it. His cane tapped the wall

Guiding the river as it meandered

Through boulders, each on their own adventure.

That was a long time ago, a small gap

Of contemplation in the Pyrenees,

A thought discarded with September leaves,

A blind man speaking with Bible insight.

He traversed his trove of bardic recall,

And kept faith with the course of a river  

That an ice age had once predetermined.


Philip Brady

Philip Brady is a doctor and poet who lives in Edenderry, Ireland