© 2011 Jean-Claude Romeuf
© 2011 French-speaking Association of Readers of the Urantia Book
I shouted your name at the top of the cathedrals. Towards you, from the eternal snows, my voice flew away. The waves of the sea still carry my messages like so many lost bottles.
“Caminante, no hay camino” said the poet; yet the imprint of my steps on the sand is the true proof of the path I have traveled. There is a path! There is a path that the sea erases like the trace of my steps.
I have shouted your name in all the dialects of the earth. You have never answered me! It is as if you do not know the language of men. No me oyes? No me entiendes?
“Caminante, no hay camino”! He is the one you choose. Your path is the one you trace each day before you. He is a ray of light hesitating on the sea. He is a ray of light going beyond the horizon. I cried out your name in the depths of my solitude. I called you in the silence of my room. I called you in pain. I glorified your name in joy. I heard only the echo of my voice. You, you did not answer me!
“Caminante, no hay camino”. It is the path that you take alone! Caminante, you will die alone, as my childhood friend is dying right now. I did not realize that he had aged. But caminante, there is a path that you draw through the stars. Caminante, hay un camino.
Jean-Claude Romeuf