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Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Looking for the Sure Path

I came to a branch in the road, looking for love
To right I saw the trail meander
Down one way then up another
One passerby would point and say "There's the boundary."
Another would claim it was whatever you decided it would be
Yet there wasn't anyone to provide a blanket for the nights
Nor a cup of cold water for the days
The trail wound up past the pines and was lost in the brush
I saw there was no clear destination...and so chose not to follow

I stood at a branch in the road, looking for hope
To the left I looked and saw a path gradually climb
At some point it followed the base of a mountain
I looked up and there were shallow clefts in the rock
Where I knew there would be any possibility of passing
And when I reached the top there would be one more cliff to climb
And another...and another...without any rest
Surely that path would soon stain with my blood
I saw only pain...and so chose not to follow

I stood at a branch in the road, looking for peace
Looking behind me I saw no shelter under the trees
With the heat beating down on a path full of dry cracks
No comforting words from those who walked by
My empty cup lay by the road four days past
My eyes could not discern any beauty of the past
For the flowers had faded and the grass was withered
No calm was found in the torment
I saw only a river of tears...and so chose not to follow

I stood at a branch in the road, looking for truth
Looking within I saw a heart bound by deception
A mind that played with loaded dice
Giving every reason not to trust any appearance of strength
For the folly and superficial promises of charlatans
Had tread upon my feelings and emotions
Sucking the air from a weakened soul
And the philosophers and saints lay dead in their graves
I saw only dried branches...and so chose not to follow

Then He appeared in the distance, walking toward me
With His staff in hand and His step sure
A slight smile as He looked my way with no hint of arrogance
(How could He be joyful when I hide from my own presence?)
He stopped in front of me and rested His hand on my shoulder
A hand with splinters from shaving wood
But arms fit to lift the lamb and defend it from the enemy
His eyes held all love, hope, peace and truth to strengthen my step
And my nail-scarred friend guided me down His path towards home

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