The path is trodden
below my feet.
I've traveled it
so many times;
its course predictable;
the stones placed;
yet every time
I come this way
I hope to find Your face.
Your presence,
I once sensed;
Your strength, I did taste.
Yet the fog won't settle;
the forest is dense,
and I long for
the sweet sound
of Your voice that I
so long ago misplaced.
Now at a crossroads,
I stubbornly stand;
for I've made
this turn before.
I know the whispers
that in the trail are bore.
Yet, with every tattooed step I take
I continue to hope
in Your arms I wake.
Your presence, I can sense;
Your strength, I can taste.
Now the fog is settling;
the forest remains dense,
and I feel near the sweet sound
of Your voice that I
so long ago misplaced.
On the precipice with
arms opened wide;
I will wait for the floods
to vanish with the ceasing tides.
There I know The Way
exposed before my feet;
for I know no matter how far I travel
down this beaten path;
without fail, my battered faith
unto You will forever fleet.
Your presence, I now sense;
Your strength, I now taste.
The fog forever settled;
the forest no longer dense;
and I hold dear the sweet sound
of Your voice that I
so long ago misplaced.