The trek

This is a wonderful poem I've come across at poetrysoup, 

                                     by David Smalling 

(The poet has granted me permission to post it here) 

The distant of our journey does not count
Only the direction we take;
Eagles keel upward in their mount
The winds chose for the falling flake.
And I, I set my face to the woods
When I left my house; an inward trek
Measuring my life by poles and roods,
Never making enough from the weekly check;
And all because there was so much to know
And so many mysteries to understand
Reading, rejecting, testing for a glow
Of that eternity in the grain of sand.
In the end I should have gone to sea
All along, for I was the only mystery.
I should have trusted faith against history,
And took the outward direction on my journey.
But here I am, and I cannot otherwise
Now, abandon the benefits of my surprise.
For all our acts are points of learning
And all we learn comes by believing.

by DAVID SMALLING