The journey of questions

The journey of questions can be a lonely road…
A slow traveller by the sea…
Translucent shapes in misty rain…
Blue illusions…
Four winds…
Weeping gold…
The second breath of Spring…
White cloud on a quest for old Sorrento…

In the early tears of light…
The coastal road sighed by shimmering glassy waters…
The Painter splashed a few colours…
The buzz of ocean villages…
Awakening…
But the limpid magic of signs drifted by…

Four winds whispering in weeping gold…
White cloud yearning…
Blue illusions of old Sorrento
Waiting…

There was no fanfare of destination…
The body was there…
But watered visions of passing moments charmed the soul…
Echoes of old mansions by the sea…
Laced with new gardens…
Gentle distractions from inner questions…
Till suddenly the road arched upwards…
To a clutter of bright names…

Bright golds…
Bright silvers…

Dark doors…
Dark windows…

Empty tables…
Empty chairs…

By the sea…

Old Sorrento…
Blue illusions…
Waiting…

Few footsteps wandered Sorrento at this time of day…
The cacophony of tourist mayhem begins late…
Happiness is being a lonely traveller…
A spirit free to be moved by the delights of wonder…

The Painter offered a palette of colonial buildings
Gowned for a dance through the years…
Some mingled well in the dance…
Alight with the glow of a new partner…
A new love…
A new lifetime…
But others seemed to wait
Stark and cold…
Fragile whispers from old questions…
Love me? Can you still love me?

But this was not my question…
So carefully I moved on…

Tourist hour was drawing close…
Too soon…white clouds could slip away…

Blue illusions of the spirit guided me to a bookshop…
I had tried the Antipodean world of books…
Tiny gaunt building
White…
Dragged from some servant’s yesterday it seemed…
I thought that was the question…
Sadly…the doors were closed for now…
And the windows only offered some awkward array of vague paintings…
Books seemed to be tucked in some backdoor darkness…
Antipodean…
The name seemed right…
But the question was wrong…

Bookshop…really a newsagent with a dimension of books…
Too many white lights…
Too many choices…
Too many novelties…
I expected nothing…

Blue…a blue cover…just waiting…
“Slow Travel”…
And below the title…
“Sell the house, buy the yacht and sail away…”

Trembling…

Inside the cover…
A map…entitled…
“The Voyage of White Cloud”…

Sorrento…
Gift of the four winds…
Blue illusions…

And questions…