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A stone's cast ----

   but what great arm has set about the motion?

   was not the first mother reared? ----

   her children on the smiles of angels?

   her womb filled with devotional design;

   to flourish to some end with hope in God's motivation?


..... back to the (garden), with this posy and its ink near end,

   and its quill dipped still in mystique;

   yet I did not come (here) by chance,

   nor was my mother born from some heathen improbability,

   there can come no answers in doubt;

   for fear of the wolves the woods are too shadowed

   and loiter most grimly,

   always death on the wind....


I shall not doubt the design in the weave the Great Artist

   hath woven, and what magic touch with the world's eye in mind;

   only the dullard doubts the infinite graces in the reflecting pool,

   and the skeptic accursed without revelation -----

   his own child but water, flesh and bone

   and the cold earth but waits for him,

   in the bellies of fattened worms;

   when death's breath whispers and curls and furls 

   as serpent wisp-mists, coiling to mortal truth ----

   he shall cling to God and eternity! 


Have I died a thousand deaths?

   walked the cool of earth ere?

   tasted of the sweet nectar of love,

   and the bounties beyond death?

That we will to live, and climb to some end,

   the jagged-precipice, and toil to experience

   and seek the Final Mighty Mount ----

   is our great testimony to eternity;


To leave our fingerprint upon the world,

   and slip into paradise as a welcomed wind 'neath its door.....

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