What is it that we are seeking? Do we even know where to look?

How often do we look

and yet

Cannot see that, at which we

are

looking?

The trail, the path, is laden with stones,

that impede our progress.

They are wet and we continue

to slip, slide and sometimes regress

or fall as a result.

The mist ahead keeps us from seeing what is there,

what lies in front.

And,
so, is life.
If we could only know what to expect,
but we don't.
We have to have that faith, which is intrinsic to life,
in order to continue on.

A misstep, will drop us down on the left 3000 ft,
to ultimate fatality, and failure,
while climbing to the right will take us to nothing.

To continue on the path, which is difficult at best,
we must have total faith and trust,
that it will ultimately lead us in a positive way,
in a positive direction to an endpoint,
justifying our faith and trust.

Faith and trust,
not only in ourselves,
but in that Supreme Being,
God,
without Whom,
we can never adequately traverse that path.

No matter how isolated

or alone one must feel,

there is always the light that pierces the loneliness,

our lives

and brings to us, the warmth and closeness of others

when we least expect it.

Those warmths, feelings,

and

closeness are always there

we just fail to recognize them,

to look and see them.

We must ask ourselves,

how often does that occur??

And how often do we ignore the one reaching out to us?

Again, we look,

but we don't see!

The Beauty of a Flower in the Morning

A lock of hair fell across her

forehead

The warm, flickering light of the

candle

outlined the gentle shape of her

face

bringing forth the sweetness of

her lips,

the small pink tip of her tongue

as it so

lightly brushed those lips in that

nervous

gesture which so sensuously

characterized

those soft, perfect lips.

Her hand reached across the

table,

ever so gently covering mine.

The warmth, the smoothness of

the skin

as it touched mine.

The sensation that traveled

through those

hands to mine

Brought reverberations into my

heart

that were an ecstasy of their

own

They penetrated my very self as

her gaze,

accompanying the touch

Pierced my inner soul with the

fire

of a burning brand.

The fever pitch brought about by

the

fervent desire to take her in my

arms,

To hold the beauteous figure

before me,

To feel the gentle touch of her

lips

brushing mine

To feel the warmth of her

closeness

melding her to me

The candlelight, the wine, the

aura of her

All blended itself into a dream

become reality

By her very presence, her

freshness,

her touch, her smell, her taste,

her very being.

She and the night became one,

a maelstrom

of feeling that gradually

became a most

gentle, warm and overwhelming

envelopment

of one's being.

cg