I wrote this on the Camino a few years ago. 

Where am I going?

I ask this aging, thickening body

and these dulling, dampened thoughts.

I am going somewhere else.

Somewhere where there is silence

before a chorus of birdsong,

darkness before a fire of dawn,

emptiness before a silk of touch.

I am going somewhere else.

Beyond the feather wisp of now,

past the blanket of before,

into the nugde of the next.

Somewhere else,

this aging, thickening body will dance,

these dulling, dampened thoughts wil soar

and I will reach out to you

from a joyfulness of me.