Wednesday, August 31, 2005


like a still pond beginning to ripple, disturbed by a falling leaf
like a stone rolling downhill, beginning an avalanche
like a child chosen last for a ball game
like an inexperienced skier at the top of a slope

left over, yet on the verge of something
totally expended, but with so much potential, so much to give
to spin the wheels and have them meet firm ground!
to see the end before embarking on the journey!
to walk by sight rather than by faith!

where to go? what to do? which road in the yellow wood?
what of the road already traveled? of the voice spoken to the heart?
to be able to cling to be immovable rock and not let go . . . !

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