by Christopher Good
Paths beaten to dust beneath footsteps
slow and sore, worn by far too long a journey.
Circle-paths burnt hard in the empty rock of a
Circle-burnt hearts turned cold in a stony road,
long but for this desperate quest to end,
long for the last dust of this path to settle,
Troubled dust blowing scorched over hard paths,
charred circles, war-councils, broken cisterns,
clouds without water, rogue stars, all will
find troubled peace:
Late day, dew cools long-dried Eden;
a single step crushes the silence.
Christopher is a deeply opinionated Canadian Christian socialist thinker and craftsman; he enjoys church sociology, literature, languages, music, and building hospitality furniture.