Running, rolling, riding hard
Westward, west, always west.
What wanderlust draws us westward?
What mystic glory lies
Or rides
Or sighs
Where the sun dies?
Perhaps this perilous pilgrimage
Will provide no more perspective
Than any reflective
Ramble through rough and tumble
Land, language, or languid
Dreamscape
Of Amber fields,
Amethyst mountains
And Blue Diamond waters.
But even if that’s so
(and I very much doubt
It’s all this is about)
And this enduring enterprise from the east
Is the least
Of a greater feast
Or a faux fashion in a flippant fad
I am glad
Eager
And proud to say
That I went on a journey to reflect
On a land so grand
That streets of old are paved with gold
That I escaped the ghost-scape
Of this dry and desert land.
That the desert streams
That once seemed
In such need and demand
Pale compared to the grand
And glorious
Hope and dream
Of my LORD and King.
Now I may not see
The very thing
Created and conceived
By He who Created Me
But I can reflect
On the potential possibilities of powerful parables
That portray a place
Of glory and grace
Of mercy and wisdom
Of life, love, hope,
Wisdom, mercy
Grace and glory!
And if this journey
Serves only
To force me to find
The words and phrases
To describe the places
Of Godly reflections then I proclaim
This trip is worth it!
But…
But that isn’t how faith works.
That isn’t how God works.
There is greater glory to be found
In the sound
Of a child’s laugh than the praises of a man like me.
There is greater glory
In the young and innocent
Than the old and wise.
There is greater glory to be found
And to find it
I follow in fearful faith
The light that shines from His
Fathomless Face.
It shines
White hot and high
Brilliant brightness in the sky
Day and night, night and day
His light shines and shows the way.
It points west.
Shines in the west.
So westward we go.
Always west.

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