Actually wrote this melancholy poem in the midst of today's errands, etc. but prior to our time with the Nyanyas. The words still ring true, but the time with our wonderful women convinced me that I am indeed where I am supposed to be at this moment. Let it be so...
which way now?
I walk the path before me,
and though the way has
long seemed clear,
the light strong and my tread certain,
i stand now at a crossroads,
an intersection where the
roads diverge. No signposts
mark the way and gazing
far ahead, the road is dark,
regardless which i choose
to follow. No guiding light.
No leading hand. And i
feel lost and all alone,
uncertain and a bit afraid.
From the far distance, i hear voices
calling, "Come this way!", the
sounds echoing from family and home
and church, responsibilities
both comfortingly familiar and
familiarly onerous...
while other songs sound
as dirges in my ears, fraught
with sadness and the anticipation of loss.
Where is the laughter? the songs
of joy? Where is the sunshine?
Where the light and clarity of
purpose that i seek?
And where, oh where, shall my
steps lead me next?
And a voice says clearly,
"Just take a step...reach
out your hand. The way
will open. I will be here...
no matter what the choice,
I will be here."
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