That day. What did I really learn?
Was it just how to stand and move?
Where to look and when to do this
or that? What did I really learn
all those long days?
Wasn’t I learning the things a
boy learns when becoming a man?
The things from the bedrock of life
Way down below the bottom of the dream.
Deep in the shadows of
the sky high days and toothy grins.
Where the lessons are long learned and ever true.
Wasn’t I learning patience and hope and stillness
and awe and respect? Wasn’t I learning how to
look and see? Wasn’t I learning
a craft that comes with time?
Wasn’t the river
teaching me what I learned?
Aren’t I still learning? That craft,
not recreation or sport or diversion or hobby, but
craft- That teaches and brings you
in close to behold the wonder of
His Majesty.
That teaches and sends you away in
shambles to question your devotion.
That teaches and takes you where
visions of hope realized
emerge to stretch their
wings and escape into reality.
Isn’t that what I’ve been
Learning all these years?
1 comment:
Yes, yes, and yes.
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