I dream I sat astride a silver horse
And faced ahead a wide, shallow river
The river, my life, as an hour glass,
Far too much sand in its base,
Far too few grains left to fall.
In my hands, the reins,
My pockets, small stones.
I knew my path lay ahead,
But did not, and do not, know
In whose hands a must place these stones.
Unremarkable in color,
Like worn granite river cobble.
But I must cross the river, alone
And I must distribute the stones before I cross.
No one in sight,
Do I simply scatter them into the water
Hoping one day another shall pick this stone or that stone up and take it along its next journey.
Do I somehow hang on, weak, alone,
And wait for the hand in which I'll know each stone is a perfect fit?
And risk failing to even cross the river, let alone distribute the stones my God has placed in my hands?
Is that damnation?
Is that hell?
A life of purpose unfulfilled?
I see now what I have always known:
Love is larger, grander, than all of us.
Love transcends all.
Love is where we all meet.
I tried to share that window of love with a few,
In the end, it was always destined to fail
in human frailty and in human fault
And in human fear to simply let go and feel what is right
I welcome soon that total immersion in love,
Nothing short of what we all seek,
But only find at the curtain call of this existence.