You may not take anyone along.
If only love were small enough to fit into the palm of the hand…
If only you could keep it, take it with you.
Nothing that sidetracks the heart may join.
Leave it behind, in its own home.

No one can accompany another for such a long road.
Don’t say you didn’t know!
The most one can do is to pass another’s magma. When it comes to seeds…

When the path reaches the seed of humanity,
every great love turns into a muddy brew.

All that’s defined shall remain in this world of definitions.
Men need this, so that one will not interfere
with another. Their work becomes easier, and so they pass
the time. Leave your defined self behind.
Your defined self is your greatest burden. Or,
whatever you think of as yourself…

Now, you are a creature of the journey. You are about to become a path.
You must truly lighten for this voyage.
In order to become a path, you must diminish until you become no one.
You must understand: you will grow as you diminish.

What You Must Take Along

Now let me specify the items you may take with you.
You will need these.
Nothing will protect you on your voyage
except for the things you carry.
You might not know yet all you must bring;
they’re sleeping inside of you. To take them,
you shall waken them one by one. Prepare yourself.

Don’t be afraid! They won’t weigh you down on your journey. But don’t forget:

That which does not weigh you down is not, in fact, light.

You must take your crazy eye along, your lidless eye
that never dries, the eye that only sees one foot ahead.
There are no footsteps to follow. Your hand shouldn’t touch
the weathered maps of your heart. The sketches drawn by your mind
can’t help you, either. This is a journey which seeks its own path,
whose route only nameless birds may tell you,
only migrants of long ago know.

Take your animal nose.
It will prevent you from taking the wrong road. You are an animal,
shapeless. A genderless, airborne animal. One that recognizes
trodden roads by their odor.

You are an animal that protects itself by keeping
a safe distance. Angelic enough not to use your wild teeth,
cowardly enough not to exchange wounds.

So you’ve decided to stand close enough
to see everything, but
far enough to run away if needed.
The farther you stand, the more you sing.
The more you sing,
the wider your view.

Remove your birdlike hands from their gauze.
You might wish to say something,
make a heart-shaped sign.
You have no tongue if you have no hands.
You always speak with fluttering hands;
that is why you remain clumsy here.
But on journeys
tulle women, glass trees, silver children, or sky-men
cross your path. Because you are a child,
you touch things
as you speak to them.