The point at Finisterre as seen from the sea

Finisterre — David Whyte

The road in the end taking the path the sun had taken, into the western sea, and the moon rising behind you as you stood where ground turned to ocean: no way to your future now but the way your shadow could take, walking before you across water, going where shadows go, no way to make sense of a world that wouldn’t let you pass except to call an end to the way you had come, to take out each… Read more

Sunset at Aït Ben Haddou, Morocco

The Journey — David Whyte

Above the mountains the geese turn into the light again, painting their black silhouettes on an open sky. Sometimes everything has to be enscribed across the heavens so you can find the one line already written inside you. Sometimes it takes a great sky to find that first, bright and indescribable wedge of freedom in your own heart. Sometimes with the bones of the black sticks left when the fire has gone out someone has written something new in the… Read more

The author. The beach at Little Dip Conservation Park.

Time Left Alone — David Whyte

… tired of ourselves … But tired of land, we open ourselves to oceans, tired of time we give back all that we’ve taken, tired of ourselves we open ourselves to ourselves at last, sensing the waves and great abyss of the sea beyond, the ocean stretching on sand and the long view on the still sea that leads to another life. From Time Left Alone: in ‘River Flow: New and Selected Poems’ David Whyte