The Pilgrim

Through the wind-swept plains,

through the infested jungle rains,

he made his way.

Through the passes so treacherous,

through the vales, dark and dangerous,

he made his way.

A matter of faith,

of devotion and pride;

with every mile he walked,

relentless was his stride.

Nothing but a sack on his shoulder,

a cloak when the air got colder.

A weather beaten stick-

his only companion;

just on soft earth and grass he lay,

under the mighty banyan.

He starved for days untold,

everyday, a new path unfolds.

A thousands steps of stone he climbed,

in holy rivers he bathed.

On the shores of the sea, he stood

watching the days of his youth fade.

The Pilgrim now lives away from this world,

where, to the devoted,

he preaches the holy word.

Wisdom he gained through perseverance.

The virtue of life, he taught,

lies not in mere existence.

Journeying lands, rivers, valleys and seas,

for months at end;

I am humbled before this sage.

With the word of wisdom in my heart,

I am exalted,

for I have now ended my pilgrimage…