Monday. . .
a mountain looms
so large,
beginnings fraught with fear and doom,

clouds grey and heavy
weigh things down,

but,
I must admit,
they fall short
as omens to portend
my seconds’ passed sensation
of unnavigable gloom. . .

and,
with a little skyward glance,
a wink at,
and back from
You,
my heart can start to stretch. . .

its joy-capacity expands. . .

and though there may be
slogging long and sometimes slippery
over dew-slick surface
of a deep dry,
hard packed earth,
which has long gone thirsty,

the vision blooms ahead
of my return to You
and to the very best and first me. . .

and the tracks that will be made
with my feet’s tread
will lead
to wondrous, unfamiliar lands–
too miraculous
for mirrors in my marvel of a mind to glance,
or for feeling nerve ends
in my warm and palms-connected hands. . .

I look forward to the day
when I will feel
so seamlessly a part of One
and when I’ve reached
that so long-sought for place
where at last
I understand.