To understand this a bit better I would suggest reading the first part, “The Boy and the Wise Man: Crossroads” (view). There are many references that draw their meaning from it and other poems. Both “Stepping Stones” and “Crossroads” are in fact parts of a larger creation that is taking a bit of time to manifest.
After the first meeting
We’ve met on and off
Again and again
They didn’t seem to mind
My pad and a pen
The BOY and the WISEMAN
Are who I speak of
They had just invited me
To a party
Birthday the letter said
Good food, good drinks
And bass filled ‘speakas’
Informal
It continued as I read
Jeans and ‘sneakas’
On my way
I decided to take
Another route
The route of a friend
I wanted to know where
His journey began
Since I know where it ends
I took out my camera
Took in the scenery
I was early
And looking forward
To the leisurely journey ahead
“I guess you didn’t hear what I said.”
The voice felt as if
It was ringing inside of my head
I had been so caught up
Putting myself in the BOY’s
Shoes
Seeing how the scenery
Was so picturesque
But when I did look up
It was hard to look away
Picture this
On second thought
I get embarrassed every time
I remember that first encounter
So I guess
For now I’ll leave her
Picture less
As I was coming out of my
Revere
She repeated again
“I guess you didn’t hear what I said.
Since this is a road less travelled
There are no signs
But there’s danger ahead.”
“D-danger?”
“You heard this time.
Since we’re going
In the same direction
Travel with me.
You’ll be fine.”
Unfairly
I felt that chill one gets
When someone tickles your spine
In my line
Of work
I’ve met a lot of
Beautiful strangers
She was stranger
Than most
Moved across the ground
Silently
Flowed
Like the breeze
Ephemeral
But more tangible than a ghost
Finding pride
My courage
I asked my host
“How do you know where I’m headed?”
“I guess you’re not from around here.
There is only one destination
At the end of this path;
CROSSROADS.
There are no exits, no detours
And what’s more
There’s a party today.
The BOY travels a lot
So I take it you’re one of his friends
From far and away.”
What can I say
Her candid nature
Charmed
My doubts and misgivings away
Or maybe it was
Dark hair
And how the wind
Was making it sway
“You’re right, almost.
I’ve been to CROSSROADS
Before.
It’s just my first time
Coming this way.”
“Don’t worry
I know who you are.”
I saw a flash of mischief
“The WISEMAN told me
To watch for you.
In case your journey into the past
Carried you this far.”
“And who might you be?”
“Who? Me?”
She stopped suddenly
As we came upon a river
And reached into her pouch
“These stones hold memories.”
She continued longingly
“I wonder if he still remembers me.”
As she flashed her hands
Over the stream
The stones flew from her hand
Gleamed
Grew
Fell into place
One after the other
Her tone was tacit
As she calmly explained
That the stream was acid
And if I stepped in it would be tragic
“What happened to the bridge?”
She followed my gaze
To the decrepit posts upstream
“You should thank the
Person who sent you the invitation.”
“You mean…”
“That story must wait.
It’s not safe to spend too much time
On this side of the stream.”
I followed skeptically
And hurried over
The stones
Away from dangers I hadn’t seen
Stepping on the bank
I continued
“So, you mean…”
“I was hoping you would forget
But it seems
The WISEMAN was right.
You like to uproot.
You’re not satisfied
With just trying to glean.”
Again that look of mischief.
“Since we have a bit of a ways to go
I guess I could let you know
How the bridge came to be
How it came to be.”
Luckily
I had my tape recorder
Because she spoke too fast
And my pen would be
Too slow
So let me play back
The story
She told to me