Go With Me

Do not pack.

Do not concern yourself
With travel details…

Neither the functions
That we might attend,
Nor what you need to wear.

Where we stay,
Has no significance,

This is a singular vision,
Of where our dreams
Pierce through
The mundane.

Our material constraints…

Our worldly concerns…

Have no bearing
On our journey,
Or final destination.

Take my hand.

Let me lead you
To the whisper
Of our future,

Let me paint
For your eyes,
The picture of what we can,
And will,


And how effortlessly,
And warm,
And beautiful,

Complete commitment,
And unconstrained
Can be.

Take my hand.

Go with me,

Go with me…




© 2018 W. C. Stacia, Jr.

Categories PoetryTags , , ,

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