June 11, 2024

No Broken Trail

by Timothy Birdnow

I wandered off alone one day into the deep dark wood
with spirits bright I mocked the night, I felt so very good
nary a care I wandered out there, not doing what I should
but the paths all got crossed and soon I was lost and I knew not where I stood

There is no broken trail
the path I trod alone unshod
has led me to a fail
no signpost rod nor marker nor protective handrail
the tracks have all gone stale

I walked along for untold time though it felt like many days
my mind was a blank and my body was rank as the sun was loosing her rays
I made my camp in a clearing damp in the twilight of blacks and of grays
No water or food and a lot of damp wood, my mind in a melancholy haze

I started out next morning in the early sunlight
but I was tired and hungry and my path was mere flight
of any signs or markers, there were none within my sight
so I stumbled along always doing it wrong, I was clearly losing the fight

I bushwacked my way to a rocky rough glade
soon the path grew quite narrow, with a steeply
pitched grade
I sought sun in the trees and sought trees in the
shade
My mind, like my belly, had turned into jelly; I was clearly coming unmade

the days burned like coal and the nights froze like ice
my weary old soul trapped by my own device
What I had counted as virtue was clearly a vice
at each trail juncture I just rolled the dice

I wandered forever, trapped in that terrible Hell
no longer so clever in my endeavor I was stuck at the bottom of a well
for a drop of cold water my soul I would sell
at a time unknown all the strength left my bones
I was nothing more now than a shell

How had I gotten so lost? I never once counted the cost
like a raft in the sea it was all about me now I was dashed about, sickened, and tossed

Where goeth the love of God,or is He nought but the iron rod?

I begged Him for rescue, I begged Him for relief
I begged Him for forgiveness and an end to my grief
but with each passing hour I knew my time grew brief
My life was being taken by that great eternal thief

But prayers do not go unanswered.

The searcher came and called out my name; I was too weak to reply
cold and lame, perhaps insane, I had no strength to so much as cry
he found me there with a vacant cold stare just gazing up into the sky
a pitiful soul that the devil almost stole, I was just about ready to die

He carried me to the trailhead, to the station warm and bright
He gave me a coat and he bandaged my head and he comforted me in my sad plight
the water and the food made me feel very good
and the world had returned to my sight
the darkness was done and the victor had won
no more sorrow or suffering or night

don't wander alone in the woods my friend
don't think you can stray from the road
you may not atone and lie prone at the end
with the dead you could find your final abode

Posted by: Timothy Birdnow at 06:24 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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