by, Apr 28th 2010 at 11:12 PM (1231 Views)
The wanderer walked with knowledge
Knowing that every step he placed
was right where it was meant to be.
He strolled an icy alpine trail
Where he contemplated the snow.
Every flake uniquely designed.
Each one landing light upon the
Jewel crusted and laquered landscape,
To embrace and become as one.
While he wandered the wintry trail,
The snow dissolved into a stream,
Whispering its way down the mountainside,
And the traveler paused to ponder
On how the cool, crystal, cloud-flake
Was not content to be plain snow.
It knew it needed something more,
So it softened its hardened ways
To search for its higher calling.
He came to a place in the path
Where the stream joined a swift river,
And so he stopped to slake his thirst.
Dipping his cup into the current,
He quickly mused what he had done.
"Plunging my cup in this river,
I have only filled it with water.
Taking a portion of the river,
And yet the river remains whole.
Just like the peace God sends to us.
The world tries to take it away,
But His love will always remain,
Because the world can only take
What belongs wholly to the world,
And God's peace is not of this place."
After pausing to rest a while,
The rover resumed his journey,
Observing the clouds and the trees.
He considered the clouds conception.
Water conjoining in the air;
Shaped by waves of heat and wind.
Every single cluster of cloud
Gathering dew beads between them,
And when they have all they can hold,
They pour God's love upon the land.
For He provides all that we need
When we don't even know it's needed.
And then he regarded the trees.
Some were taller than the others.
Some had leaves; some had none.
They were birch, maple, pine, and oak.
Hardwoods, softwoods, old, and young.
Yet the trees were all still trees,
With trunks, branches, and leaves
All made the way God created them.
All a part of His grand design.
He approached a bustling city
And stopped to study its people
Rushing about their busy affairs.
Some were taller than the others.
Some had long hair; some had none.
Some were dark and some were light.
They were old and they were young,
And yet they were all still people.
Made the way God wanted them to be.
Then he looked upon their labor,
And thought, how foolish it all was,
To spend their life seeking fortune
Only to leave it in the dust
When the spirit is called back home.
Naked we came; so shall we go.
Then he said, "Life was made for joy,
And not fighting for earthly gain.
Why should we labor for the wind?"
The wanderer continued walking
The banks of the blissful river
Until it flowed into the sea,
And gazing upon that vast water,
He turned very silent and still.
Overcome by revelation.
He had walked a whispering stream
That became a singing river,
Which poured itself into the ocean.
But stream and river still remained.
Still whispering, and still singing.
Still flowing to where they began:
As a tiny speck of vapor
Elevated from sea to cloud,
Becoming a cool, crystal flake
Falling on a mountain top,
And beneath a warming sun,
Changing to a whispering stream
That merged into a singing river.
Rushing along with one goal;
To return to where it began.
"How alike the snowflake we are,"
The traveler said to himself,
"Each of us different by design,
Entering this wide world wanting
To become a part of something.
Seeking acceptance, friendship, peace,
And as God's love carries us
From our mountains to His sea,
We discover unity
In the vastness of His love.
In the depths of His devotion,
And wave upon wave of faithfulness."
Then the wanderer smiled, knowing
That all the rivers fill the sea;
But the sea shall never be full.