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
troublesome desolation.

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,
to rest.

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.

IMG_20180408_170438.jpgChristopher is a deeply opinionated Canadian Christian socialist thinker and craftsman; he enjoys church sociology, literature, languages, music, and building hospitality furniture.

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