Science is for those who learn; poetry, for those who know. — Joseph Roux, Meditations of a Parish Priest
To be a poet is a condition, not a profession. — Robert Frost
Everything one invents is true, you may be perfectly sure of that. Poetry is as precise as geometry. — Gustave Flaubert

Friday, July 17, 2009

~ Sacred Trek ~

Climbing up this mountain
Never thinking it’s in vain
Sometimes rocks would tumble down
And they’d get in my way

Piece by piece and faithfully
I’d cast them all aside
Sometimes optimistically
Other times I cried

Thorns and barbs would stab my feet
Upon my sacred path
I stop and rest and fix my feet
My lessons come to pass

With growing inner knowledge
I climb the mountainside
Windy days and pouring rain
My eager soul would thrive

Finally my final step
I’ve made it through my journey
The beauty takes my breath away
I raise my arms, so weary

Stinging eyes, filled with tears
Ablaze, look to above
Twirl, dazzle, spinning bright
The light fills me with love

Angels stand before me
Loved ones from my past
Angels ageless, beautiful
Speak life of ever last

God so breathes, eternal breeze
Inhaled from earthly bounds
I spread my wings, so tranquilly
In heaven I’ll be found

©Bobbie Sandlin

This one is my favorite. The first stanza was rattling in my brain, driving my crazy. This one was so easy to write. I sat down and just let it flow. I hope you enjoy it.


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