Obeisance

In Go(L)d We Trust

its day

Anticipatory

“But pleasures are

like poppies spread,

you seize the bloom,

the flower is spread…”

          Burns, 1790

We travel hopefully…

…till the going
and the arriving run together
like contradictory trains
or the random flow of rivers…

…so much is in the journey
that the end of it is only
an empty terminus…

…arrival is a figment.

© BH, 2025

---

A writing prompt (the title); ten minutes to write what it prompted.

The Burns epigraph just inserted itself…

I've been trying to grasp the meaning ever since. Like Burns's bloom it's elusive, ephemeral. Like the poem, the meaning might lie in the process not the completion.

What we get is what we get…