The Trackless Path

The night is still dark

And the generator running

And you are there in the darkness

Reconsidering, perhaps, the truth that is your life.

And miles away, the light is still on as I sit here waiting up for you.

There is a razor's edge between telling the truth and being kind.

God help me to walk the razor’s edge.

On the night when the Great Hurricane blew,

I came down to the docks to find you wailing inconsolably,

And knowing that there was nothing I could do but love you,

I grabbed the rope and held you fast

As the storm pushed you further out to sea.

It pushed and pushed 

And I tried with all my might.

But the storm was pushing you out of sight.

And the wind blew, and the lightning flashed,

And the rain beat down upon me relentlessly.

But still, I held fast the chord upon the end of which was you

Even though God only knew if you were there.

And the rope tore at my hands.

And the darkness of the night crept in as if

To promise I had lost you in the night.

But still I held you fast. 

I held long after the storm had passed.

And the people strolled by the boat wharf and laughed

As if to mock the man who stood there.

And the years rolled on

Until finally they stopped noticing.

And the summer sun baked down upon me

And dried me out and cracked my skin until

I was no more than a dead statue to most.

And they wondered at the unplaqued monument.

Some brought roses, and the city

erected a little rod iron fence.

And the years rolled on

Till now, finally,

I see you coming back,

A little dot upon the horizon.

And I wonder if you'll recognize me.

Or will you see the stone, the figurine,

The thing that you were told I am.

But I promise there is life beneath the crusty shell.

Just come and breathe upon me,

And the scent of your essence 

Will bring me back to life.

For it's you that I've been waiting for all along. 

I used to insist upon only glory stories for my life.

But that was when I claimed it for myself.

I now realize that there are no unimportant tales

In God’s great saga. 

Our successes and our failures

Each serve up invaluable lessons

For those who watch from veiled portals

Waiting their turn to play a part.

My mistakes are precious to me now.

Thank God they were allowed.

There are ways in which I still have not been tempted.

But I do not worry about that.

He has seen me through

My yesterdays.

And I trust him with tomorrow.

I caught a ride on the rail tonight.

The sun was setting and I thought

To find a place to bed down.

I left town headed west

Toward the setting sun

And within a short time

The train track crept up on the side of the road

And I looked up to see a train moving alongside,

It was keeping time, or I kept time with it.

It was unexpected, slightly surprising, comforting,

The box cars silhouetted by the evening colors.

And the road and train veered together right.

I had only planned to find an empty field outside of town.

But the train and the colors hooked me and pulled me along.

A mile, five miles, ten miles. The road and track stayed together

Till finally, it curved and passed above me on an overpass.

What a beautiful ride! What a beautiful sight!

A ride upon the rails tonight.

We were born for adversity,

And to face this last great tribulation,

And to be marred and crushed under the weight of it.

But we were not born unto the hell of fear and doubt.

And though they cling to us the day-long

And would destroy our very souls,

We say to our eyes 

“Look up, eyes, and see the unseen things

That will arise when death has had its way

And we come forth in white robes

Unto the liberation of all those

Who believed in the things they could not see unto the end.

I am willing to risk heresy

For the freedom and liberation

That comes from allowing each person

To hear the voice of God for him or herself.

It is better than the dogma that binds men to dead forms.

Volume will overcome imperfection.

In other words, do it more

Whatever IT is,

And you’ll eventually win,

Somehow, someway, somewhere.