Poem by Sandra Owens
Far in the recesses of the onenes of time; far in the dark misty atmospher of the
emptiness or the abstract nothingness; sits the CREATOR of all essence, substance
and being, "very sublime." In the arduousness of labor the darkness transcends the barriers of time unto the
borders of becoming.
Suddenly, a pulsation is heard, then felt, and grows until it can be auscultated; to
resemble the drummers cadence of a cold tired company of soldiers; and onset The
Journey of times oncoming. Many decisions float by, some fleeting as a whisper on the bakc of a wind blown
feather across a clear blue sky. The Journey continues to the fork of a road, that circumvents in dense foggy mist.
Finally, realizing straightforward is a clearing of the mist. It seems to ascend the
horizon as the crest of a wave as the valley is viewed below; as green as the deep
forest horny toad. Two pathways leading to a beautiful cottage basting in the radiance of sunlight,
assorted song birds flying and an array of flowers in the cottage perimeter. One road:
had broken places, stormy areas with fierce winds and flashing bolts of lightning
hidden shadowy curvatures; one road: smoothly paved from the fork to the house. The
rough road symbolizing, acquiring wisdom, knowledge, true spiritual re-birth, the
Gifts of the Spirit, True Agape Love; the smooth road symbolizing, cheating,
stealing, lying, coniving, spiritually dead, the shortcut to success and material wealth by
forsaking one's fellowman, self-centered and selfish. Which road have you embarked upon? And so, began The Journey.
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