Traditionally read as the starting out poem on the first day of real walking at the beginning of each year’s hike, as it was on the very first Rim of Africa hike

I don’t know what weight and depth and solidity the earth,
the soil, the rocks, the mountains,
will impart on you.
I know only that they will.

I don’t know what flow and movement and shape the waters,
oozing from the earth, bubbling in streams, tumbling from waterfalls
and crashing on the shore,
will share with you.
I know only that they will.

I don’t know what songs of airy flight the winds,
sometimes howling, sometimes whispering gently,
will inspire in you.
I know only that they will.

I don’t know what higher thoughts and frequencies and visions
the sun’s yellow heat will burn into you,
and by its absence in the night,
let smoulder in your darkness.
I know only that it will.