The Journey

Down in the sleepy hollows,
A place yet so familiar,
With leaves rustling underneath me,
A pervading silence hovers over,
To which I can not follow.

Above me are the birds,
Who frolic in their toil,
A work which is unknown to me,
Mysterious are the works of these little things,
Who knoweth not me.

Onward I go,
Down mother nature’s steps,
To a world unknown,
Hither I go,
Looking for home.

To what things are to be seen,
That have not been in thy heart,
For in such things,
I have longed to be.

Will I toil endlessly,
Or will this weary traveler find rest,
And will my heart be unraveled,
Or will it be left hopeless.

Such thoughts are prevalent,
That seep into the mind,
And leaves not the deepest recess of the heart untouched,
As though it were irrelevant.

So with bewildered gaze,
I search the horizon,
Plotting my next step,
Hoping to find my way.

To a place where my heart sinks,
Sinks into the myriad of love,
A love which is unknown to me.
To where my heart shall sing.

by Chad Lindsey