April 24, 2014

I came to the river and stood by
its shore, wanting much to cross
to the glory beyond its torrent
the realm all my life had dreamed
but dared not wade or swim, too
deep the current was and fast
no man could cross and live
a boat was there, old and worn
its pilot kindly stern, his blistered
hands firm upon the oars, strong
like time itself could not weaken
his grasp on what he would hold
nor years take their toll from him
however much they passed him by
seeing me standing, frustrated, he
began to row but I told him stop
I didn’t like his look, I would
cross the stream on my own or
not at all, to which he merely said
that the only way across that river
was him, I would not attain glory
without I used him and his boat
maddening me beyond reason
arrogant, judgemental fool, I
called him to his face and he
softly weeping, let me have my
way, left me to prove he was
wrong, but couldn’t, no matter
how I tried the stream defeated
me, washing me up on rocks
on muddy shoals, on deserts dry
always on the shore I longed so
to escape, never once on the side
of glory and all that spurred me on
was the sight of him and his foolish
boat, rock solid in the wild torrent

waiting