Diary Entry 27

Saturday, the third day

of a silent retreat.

The torrential rains

had finally ceased.

Today, I was set to find

a flower – a gem.

It would likely be the sign

that I was close to Him.

Thursday evening,

in the brevity

of our timid speech,

a woman about trillium

to me did preach.

“It’s blooming now, you know,

If you look closely,

along the path,

it grows.”

She spoke with such enthusiasm,

simplicity, and grace;

the hunger I felt for its beauty

I sought with unexplained haste.

The narrow, trodden path

meandered through the lush.

The woodland climbed and danced

among that winded- hush.

Confident this worthy hunt

would lead me through rich earth,

I sift through forest floor

for a flower it might birth.

Why would someone give chase

to what right in front of

them was perching?

No, surely a coveted gem as this

would take some amount of searching!

The quest continued stretching

my sight into the thicket.

It emerges in the distance,

but I could never reach it!

A few steps,

my feet disappear,

I’m quite shaken.

A few steps more,

the flower now clear

behold, flora mistaken.

My weary feet advance;

there it blooms,

not in vain;

but the purity of white

once more the flower feigned.

Repetitive searching continues,

eyes wildly grazing the distance.

Only to expose falsity

in my fruitless persistence.

Frustration takes hold

of my defeated pursuit.

Thoughts once beauty and grace,

now disbelief pollutes.

Mechanically, I continue;

my earthly connection now severed.

Place no longer matters,

footsteps a mere unit of measure.

Blindness overcomes sight

as awareness is ceasing.

Yet, the guilt of desertion

longs for discoveries easing.

Irritation gluttonously

finds sustenance

on my impatient footholds

endless consumption.

I stop!

My chase has no record

of neither distance nor time;

I turn, contemplating a return

to that of familiar pastime.

Twisting back around,

I face unfamiliar land.

Dear Lord, I put my feet

into Your cradled hands.

A downward glance,

as if they would move

at His will,

revealed in my next step

something sewn with such skill.

There rooted at this step

I would take with my right foot,

a flower that into the woods

was just for me, put.

I knelt next to it with

a delicate touch I kept,

and admiring this sought treasure,

I joyfully wept.

So, what I really found

in my search for the trillium flower?

It’s not gazing into distance

that His gifts upon you will shower.

But, it’s sewn to our feet,

like the shadow of Pan;

it’s been connected to us always,

His love’s eternal span.



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