Restoration

I see my youthful dreams

Back over the yawning chasm

Across the scalding wilderness

A scattered pile of Icarus' flight

Like so many relinquished lizard tails

Necessary sacrifices in the art of survival

I study the series of skins

Moulted in the solitary valleys of death and rebirth

I soar above it now

Tip my fingers and bank back over a window of memory

Expecting to see the blood trail I remember depositing

Instead my vision is kissed

A river of crimson roses

Diamond studded paths amidst succulent berry fields

Mighty oaks adorning teeming brooks

Flashing wings and flowing grass

Is this my life?

This land of great beauty?

This paradise of soul, a feast of the senses?

The facts remain unchanged

But the soul chooses heaven

And the One more beautiful than description

Is healing a past littered with pain

And making a new history

A treasure chest of priceless moments

Rich in Glory and Beauty

Stephen Pursell,

original: 12/98,

revised: 9/10/14