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Some Roads are More Lonely than Others

Moab Highway copy

The road beneath is dark and dead,

Visions and memories invade our sick heads.

Where hope once lived and flowers grew;

Where butterflies flittered and birds flew.

Now, little other care have we;

Now, the road and blackness are all we see.

Away, to nowhere, a place to hide,

No color, no feeling, just yellow tide.

But, a Rock stands watching from distant hill,

While we sit in our ignorance, a child still.

Is this the life we have grown to be,

Alone and dying on this black sea?

Where did we come from and where going,

Empty, homeless, and unknowing?

The road’s horizon calling out its curse

To lonely stranger with frugal purse.

The Lord just watches but doesn’t intrude,

A Rock in His stature from pure Spirit hewed.

The question is ours but the answer His,

Choose life eternal? or continue as is?

My home is a Paradise full of love!

You must stop looking at lies and look up above.

Your desire is for fullness, your thirst to be quenched.

My gifts are for children and hard to resist.

So, come as you are and lift your sad head,

Your sins were considered and forgiven instead.

Where men only know of desert’s dry season,

In the soil of misery, I plant the Garden of Eden.

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