He walked on, in what seemed to be a straight line.
The sun and the leaves continued to play their ballet of light. Hiding here and showing there, escaping here, peeking from under, and then getting caught in between. He never missed the play as he walked along; even if he did not look.
One thought arrested his mind, as he released his feet onward. He had often imagined that his journey was in search of love. A long time ago, he believed that love was something that you left behind; allowed to be. And in certain ways – love happened to be all around as we left love behind and walked on. So, we never actually left love behind. This thought that bound his attention challenged him about the purpose of his journey. If he already knew so much about love, why did he walk on – why did the search seem incomplete?
He pursed; nearly pinched his lips as he walked on.
It wasn’t about love perhaps, it was about him. Or perhaps, they were the same thing.
This was going to be a long walk.