A Way To Greener Pastures
My words echo back to me
Off barren walls
Through empty halls
Find no hearing ears this eve
Except my own
I'm quite alone.
Soon perhaps I'll leave this place
For greener fields
'Cross distant hills
And never happen back this way
Except in thought
For lessons taught.
I'll follow perchance this gale
That birthed my soul
And kept the coals of hope aglow
A peaceful breeze that fills my sails
And safely takes me
Across seas of animosities.
Here the grass has all but died
And turned to brown
Exposing bare ground
No longer can my roots be tied
I'll leave the wind the master
To choose a way to greener pastures.
Timothy I. Brumley
Just in case any of my fans are wondering, I wrote this poem in 1979 just
before coming back from overseas during my enlistment in the Air Force.
The breeze, or gale, mentioned above represents the Holy Spirit.
Copyright © Timothy Brumley | Year Posted 2011
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