Sunday, April 22, 2018


The pathways of this book are numerous.
Though many times my eyes this way have passed
and not a word they found superfluous,
always I see new shoots that since my last
pilgrimage sprouted, ever-newly greening
and flowering over every faint impression
left by my mind, welcoming me with meaning,
freshness, and a clear grace beyond expression.
I mark my trails with pencil lines, with ink
in different colors every time I pass,
forming a map through words with lines that link
my mind to the bright purity of glass
whose sheen, it’s true, will my own face reflect,
while showing through to Truth, where all the lines connect.

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