The
open road is the rarest road in the world
It
has always been there behind the scenes
But
its penchant toward elusiveness is certain
It
has never struggled to be seen, it is complete
The
slanting of truth has been perfected upon it
‘Till
harbouring nothing its paving is of pure gold
There
are no offences there, no stinging thing at all
Its
peculiar properties the property of the broken
On
it is a particular quality of blithe gentleness
Just
as a particular quality of penetrating light
There
is no fear there for those who walk on it
The
world with all its catch-words is renounced
The
open road is always ascending and descending
The
hills it traverses being often tunnelled through
Through
darkness the way to light was found there
And
the darkness has never extinguished the light
The
road open is to those who are deceitful closed
They
shall never find it who for gain sell the truth
The
selfish who see it from a distance only crave it
They
will never fathom the way of it who bargain
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