Friday, May 2, 2014


There was that day when she stood
 Waiting and welcoming
Glowing radiantly in the rays of the midday sun.
Trees stood in their full color guarding
The pathway to her heart.
It was as if she knew that the time as perfect.
She was the treasure the pilgrims had sought.
Mature but not tired,
Proud but not overbearing.
A flight of birds burst in formation
To exploding out into all directions,
Mother nature’s feathered fireworks

Days, became weeks, weeks months and months years.
The birds and their songs never departed.
In the dark soul of night she was honored by the sounds of
The crickets’ celestial chorus accompanied by
The sound of rustling leaves slowly
Shaken by the breath of God.
Her purpose was to be the perpetual peace-giver.
She would be more than a sanctuary
Island in the stream.
Gilbranesque filled photo albums record remembering
Moveable feasts of joyful gatherings and celebrations:
Baptisms, birthdays, Christmases and Easters
With friends and family!
Canine companions freely frolicked frequently with her.
In times of grieving she was a source of
Mystical silent prayers of solace
And comfort for the tears.
Always strong she stood her ground and sheltered her clan
From the frozen winters, sweltering summers
And the storms of all seasons and sources.
When they were tired she provided a safe haven
From the busy-ness and strain of the world.
All souls felt safe with her and would dream in comfort.
She was, no, she is sacred ground.
One pilgrim would lovingly anoint her honoring her with flowers
While the other would assure that music
Continuously sanctified this temple.
Those gathered with her flourished.
But truth and complete love can be found in letting go.
The pilgrims’ first then their second would say farewell
Launching out on their own journeys to find out.
She would always be there when and if they would feel
A burning desire to feel that unconditional love again.
A wise prophetess she seemed to know
Her work here too would come to an end.
A time would soon arrive when the original pilgrims
Would pass solemnly through
Her door of salvation one final time.
There will be no “goodbyes” just gratitude
Knowing they could return to her in their hearts.
If perchance you visit her lend an ear and listen carefully,
You can hear the pilgrims’ spirits
Living within her forever.


 Our House – C, S, N and Y
(Smart Phone click Link)

  Home …David Byrne 
(Smart phones click the link)


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