Another hill

the penultimate section... but need your help to finish

The text for this section:

We walk on
rising ground
carries us up

and over

another hill
another hill
another hill.

The cathedral
shape-shifts
from an ending
to beginning
calls us to start
another journey
another hill
another hill.

****
From here, there’s one final stanza (not reflected in the illustration above).

Back at home
I’m still searching
seeking deeper paths of return,
knowing we’ll never walk
the same road again.

***

Here’s my question for you:

The sections so far (I’ll add them in order below to refresh your memory) are all reflected in pretty concrete images - hills, Spanish sky, sleeping dog, cathedral. The final stanza, though, is pretty abstract. I’m wondering about maybe an image of an open road with a solitary figure looking into the distance/future… Or, someone more obviously me, sitting like a pudding at my desk, staring into the void, hoping inspiration will find me ;)

What do you think would be a good final image to go along with the stanza starting ‘Back at home…’?

I’m also wondering about getting rid of the 'Camino de Santiago’ text bottom left. Stay? Or toss?

Let me know your thoughts in the commnents… (and, thank you in advance to those of you who offer up your reflections and suggestions).

The pages in order:

And, here’s the whole poem in text only:

Even though we walk
down the same road
and it comes out
the same place,
our journeys diverge.
We are lost on our own maps.

The hills
of Galicia
wrap their folds
around you so tightly
you struggle to breathe
but refuse to lie down.

We walk
side by side
hobbled by time-shackles
heavier with each year’s turn.
Every footfall
takes us closer
to Santiago.

We walk
hemmed in by stone walls
pilgrim-pounded dirt
beneath our feet,
above us
a strip of Spanish blue-
a sky-blown path to follow.

We walk our stories
together - memories
lifted from hidden places
examined, refolded.
Creases shift. Night falls.
We collapse into our bunks
changed.

We walk
across the valley
into the trees
past village dogs
snoozing.
Flies settle
soft as whispers
on tawny fur.
Her paw twitches.

We walk on
rising ground
carries us up

and over

another hill
another hill
another hill.

The cathedral
shape-shifts
from an ending
to beginning
calls us to start
another journey
another hill
another hill.

Back at home
I’m still searching
seeking deeper paths of return,
knowing we’ll never walk
the same road again.