A journey’s end is uncertain.
"Behind them lay the terrors of the great Atlantic crossing"
But
"Where was the promised soil aching for the plough?"
I have reached the eighth poem and the series is drawing towards a close with each poem depicting the final stages of a different journey.


This is the eighth poem in a sequence that contemplates the journey, the quest, the odyssey (taken from my collection Shimmering Horizons, published by Bennison Books. There’s more about the book at https://johnlooker.wordpress.com/extracts-from-shimmering-horizons/ ).














