At the Beginning
(this poem was not written to a musical tune)
I choose a path. I am not sure how the journey will go.
Nothing is guaranteed, except how you choose to proceed.
As the evening brings faint light. I walk my path through
the dim forest.
I see shafts of light break through the leafy realm all
around. It is a private place.
My mind tells me, “They know the way. Follow the paths of
the animals.”
I find sure footing along the creatures’ trails.
I am grateful for those who help me along my way. I must
remember them even though they are far away.
As the world gets fainter, I see small, brief flashes from the fireflies. Reassuring hope fills my eyes.
Walking through the night, the stars a crown above me send starlight.
I know the world is turning as I see some stars fall and still
more rise. (As I walk, I mark time. I know the world is turning.
Because I see the turning of the skies as some stars fall and still others rise.)
I know light will come with the dawn. I am not afraid.
It will shine brightly in the coming day.
I will tell my story with those who will hear. With every path, comes choices. At the end of that path, we should share our voices.
I celebrate those who helped me. Helpers can come from unexpected places and can wear unexpected faces.
In a world of disorder, wise people search for a picture of
the inner and question the outer.
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