Of "time", we are weathered-
emerging from this wilderness
grasping the honed gem
of "self ".

At last then, we may seem
to wear the tiara as a rightful crown...

But, as the curving pathway
into deep waters,
and the gloom of night approaches,
at dusk
we shall say:
"We travel this road confused and alone" !

For never does the journey end,
but where "preludes" embark
upon the new again!


lightening breaks
to  trumpet the approach of rain,
as the Sun will foster a garden's growth...

And the sacred flowers
shall always reach
for the illumined, warming light-
to spring forth
in perfected beauty
along every winding
and pebbled path.

Martha Meshberg
Copyright ©2002

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