ArtsAutosBooksBusinessEducationEntertainmentFamilyFashionFoodGamesGenderHealthHolidaysHomeHubPagesPersonal FinancePetsPoliticsReligionSportsTechnologyTravel
  • »
  • Books, Literature, and Writing

The Higher Road

Updated on February 6, 2010

The higher road.

There is a maze
that lies a bit
below amazing grace,
where many

wander endlessly
with sorrow

on their face.

For just above

that endless trap of sin
they see the sky,
with all it's starry splendor,
and they know

that God is nigh.

Though walls

loom all around them
with dead ends

at every turn,
and the answer

is so simple,
but so many

fail to learn.

Just call to him

to guide you
and he'll offer

you a ladder,
to climb above

with wondrous love
and find what

truly matters.

~~~~~~~~~~~ ©_MFB III



Ephiphany Engrained!


I once lay in the shallows

of a deserted tropical isle

and let the ocean move me

like driftwood for about

a half hour or so,

eyes closed and ears blocked

by saline plugs of seawater,

rolling and tumbling at times

then simply floating as if

untethered to life at others,

and it was as if I in

those perfect moments of isolation

was being reborn that day,

and when the ocean spit me

at long last from her frothy womb,

with only seaweed as my umbilical,

I staggered up like a foal on spindly legs

into an understanding of the world

I had never before been able to grasp.......

for in that time I heard a sound like the roar

one hears when a conch shell graces the ear

and recognized it as endless masses of voices

joined together in a single rush of noise

all of the jubilee and the sorrow of mankind

the cries of the masses of the old as they sigh

and moan along their pathway to the next life,

from ten's sure bright, to tender nights, to tendonitis

the middle-aged as they dream of the years lost,

humming old tunes that bring back memories,

dancing in their rocking chairs,


just wishing and drinking chai

the young adults as they shout ecstatically

at small victories achieved in their rise from innocence,

seizing the day, and the next as they excel

the teens with a rebel scream of rebellion

tattooed on their permanent sneers and smiles,

rapping rhythmic rousing rabble relentlessly

and the children as they giggle loudly

shrieking with sheer joy at all the possibilities life holds,

playing adult in their tiny worlds never knowing the cost

and then the tiny babies as they wail and coo,

at all the pains and caresses life hands them,

the endless litany of things yet learned

and finally the unborn...some gurgling in

the amniotic bubble that keeps them in perfect peace,

and others in the anguish of a silent scream

as they are sucked or cut from all the layers

of infantchildteenadulthoodold, to simply become nevermore.

I can still hear it all even now, and so often it deafens me!







    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    • pbwriterchick profile image

      pbwriterchick 7 years ago

      I really like this circular expression of life... :)