Beyond.On occasions
I can sense the future,
the goal and golden possibilities
wrought through
a crucible of suffering.
The light at distant
end of the tunnel
drawing, beckoning, beguiling.
Grateful, I grab this straw,
aware of the nebulous murk
that clothes tomorrow’s immediacy.
The passageway,
between the grip of now
and the release of eternity,
is not illuminated
but lit by fireflies of faith.
1 comment:
Keith,
This so blessed me. Marvelous picture of what I go through often and yes, the light at the end is sometimes all I see. Thanks for posting this!
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