There’s talk of escape. Sneaking out the back, down the mountain pass. To land’s of hope and joy. No burdens remaining. As we adjust our eyes to the bright celebratory light. Sometimes I weep until sleep reluctantly embraces my shame. All the while finding home for my significant suggestions. Having gained access to favor. Washed in the candor of remade success. Yet, as the will to find relief surrounds a call to stand in good courage appears right.

Mention of mindfulness and avoidance. The painful ideas of yesteryear that stymied the best of men are lain down for pursuit of promise. What does this abundant day possess? How will sense of bounty reduce our collective fear? Have we gone as far as forgetting our open wounds such that they are now immortal scars of passage? Beset my youthful wings that I may traverse the universe, handling imagination as the real foundation and likelihood of ebullient song.

Oh stand in chorus our jubilant hearts or kneel in the quietest moments of God’s quickening Hand. Far too frequent to forget and woefully short to remember. Hand in mine I twirl for the girl and bow to my neighbor as hands aloft we parade toward a faithful end. Redeemed, no more war with sovereign command and less regard for expectation. In peaceful gain we salute those who have fallen to the awe and wonder, making way for the young to sing a new melody with bursting heart and voice.

Waylay the sullen, somber woes of hearts stricken by disorder, chaos and plunder. From under the pillow pull a single silver sovereign. Child’s play and parent’s prank to keep the hope of youth upon their visage. We are free from the frozen counsel and hearts in ice. Atoning for nothing but contrite to the might upon us. Wanting to be free but never having known the power, promise and perfection associated with surrender. We devise new plans hoping to make our way to King’s audience.

Into the blue of expansive sky we plunge, never wanting the tether to draw us back to mount. To stay alight forever harmonizing with the light and poetic dawn. All memories expelled but that which brought first smile. Relieved and breathed anew. Born of heavenly seed forever. What day shall hold us tight when the night is drawn asunder? Who will count us lost when we are found written plainly in the Hand of Saving Grace? What look of gold shall shine from face and sail proclaiming the race is won, the anchor cast off the seek and be found by eternity?