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The Weary Traveller

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I imagine Poets, Prophets and the Likes; they are on their soul journey walking into another town, but they are soul and sole wearied.

A healer sits waiting, knowing that her hands and her salve will not only soothe the soul, but also heal the feet. She knows their journey well, she knows their gifts, and she knows their wanderings are full of purpose. Her small part of soothing their feet, in silence, is a commitment to their soul’s work. Her soul work is done.


It is the weary traveller who ventures to the end of her soul and finds the highest of her higher self.