Dusty, freshly cracked slate. Sitting to let the sun dry and warm the shadow’s, dreary hand. From here eternity is visible. Resting in the peace that has surpassed malevolence and worry. Raspy hands, voice and heart. Calloused by the miles, as woody-metal brings hope to pain. Readied for the work and days to come. Frozen no more we anticipate sweaty embrace of Summer. The wind has lost its pride and now shows friendly face or seeds for proper soil.

There is nothing out of place as the Word heals wounds we never even noticed. Soaking freshly the furled, bloodied clothing revealing the arduous days of winters wander. A new scent embracing pine and saplings reminding me of days upon the mountains and moon’s casting. Peering into establishments primed for demanding prayers of blessing and mercy. Remembering that all will be fulfilled in due time, whether patience shares fruits of power or perhaps promise.

What is offered today, upon block or perhaps misgiving? Do shapes form quickly in the dreams of our pursuance? Freed of regret and unforgiveness our packs ride high upon shoulder with nary notice or conditioning. What then shall find its way into the passages of Wisdom? Displays of battle tended, scars mourned or shown as trophy, waiting for true change to waken hearts. We await dawn to tell when light steps are demanded. We look for lights first sounding.

What journey calls us homeward? Do we stay away in self-loathing never completely understood or aware that love is always gift? Ne’er prepared or monies tendered to delight of burden rescued. Being sought by those who’ve commanded a raid upon the night. We stand removed from that good counsel, instead focused, laser to the liking of the War Chief. Knowing in full measure those for whom He sent us. When noon comes we will sit again and dry in the sun’s good pleasure.