My desire is true for solitude
No wish for other’s jibe or jest
Earth songs and sunlit paths
My intellect will here attest
That Nature, our finest friend
Allows spirit a contented rest
So I find myself outside the gates
Wandering along a way unknown
Gone back to wild, that broad field
Was once broken, leveled and sown
Now a rough expanse of wavering grass
Interspersed with trees part grown
Amidst the rough, a trace of trail
A pencil line as thin as thread
Unmistakable once found and followed
Toward the misty wood it led
For just a fleeting, flighty moment
I believed I should turn ‘round instead
I stayed the path into the wood
It canted down, smooth and clear
And I wondered as it fell
Whether the bottom was far or near
Premonition skittered and
gone
Left a disquieting sense of fear
As I had walked, the sun had marched
Now the earth began to cool
So I decided to turn back
For I was not a fool
To get caught as night progressed
To get lost in darkness, cold and cruel
But as I turned, my ankle snagged
On a coil of snake, or vine, or rope
I tripped and lurched and tumbled
Side-way down a sharp, precarious slope
I tried to stop and blindly reached
For anything I could grab or grope
Head over heels I bumped and rolled
Bounced between boulders and trees
Over rocks, roots and remnants
Bashing and bruising elbows and knees
While a small voice inside me prayed
“Lord, spare me! Spare me, please!”
The grade around fifteen percent
Fell a long way from the top
But finally with a cry and thud
It was over: I came to a stop
Feeling beaten and bent, but alive
Despite the treacherous drop
I tested limbs, enumerating pains
Looked around for what I’d find
My body was indeed intact
But what about my mind?
I sat alongside a crashing river
Cutting and cold: one
of a kind
it plunged in two opposed directions
Frothing, foaming,
roaring loud
Debris tossed in turbulent rapids
Smashed through a screaming crowd
Of anguished faces riding the waves
No longer live, nor free, nor proud
With knowledge ordained, not learned
I knew this was The River of Souls
Flowing one way to celestial light
The other towards the burning coals
Judgement splashing, soaking me
With dark, discordant death tolls
Some faces bore abject horror
The rictus of the damned
Some contorted in confusion
Knowing naught what fate had planned
Others glared most mutinously
Believing they could take a stand
But the faces of the few
That caught my interest and my sight
Beamed with peace and joy
Bathed in ethereal, eternal light
It was they who had the answers
To every pilgrim's plight
I understood their message
Though they could not speak a word
I felt pulsing strands of music
Though not a note was heard
It was the message of all ages
By eternal love we’re saved and cured
But not the love you crave
And not the love you’ve sought
Not love gained through games
Nor the pseudo-love you’ve bought
Not even love freely received
Without artifice or plot
A soul’s final destination
Is based on love emitted and given
Expressed in actions and in aims
Where intentions are not riven
By the pressures, desires and fears
By which we’re constantly driven
It’s love of Earth and universe
Flora and fauna, persons and land
It’s in stewardship and industry
With a steady, caring hand
It’s dealing fairly and kindly
With all things small or grand
My understanding sated
The river swelled toward the skies
It overflowed its banks
Coldly claimed me for its prize
Then crested, and threw me to the field
Soaked, but alive, to my surprise
I made my way back home
Pondering this strange interlude
I would never be the same
Nor would my solitude
I am just a stitch in time
And this life a simple prelude
