Chapter 3: The First Message

Chapter 3: The First Message

Bending Light

Early light glints over the horizon,

It is the introduction of a new dawn.
The sun swells and the dark is coaxed away.
The long shadows of the night slowly roll up.

The crisp sun slips it’s fingers under the chilled Ponderosa pines.
The trees, mountains, and open spaces are released from the nightly cloak of darkness.

Each day is another face of God.

I am but a soul made of red clay,

And the ground is my spirit that I walk on.
My ancestors moved before me on this path.
They now step silently along in my exile to the forest

Clothed in Aspen and Ponderosa pine in the morning light.

Each day now holds my spirit.

The colors of early sun paint the autumn
Bled of yellows, reds, and orange unto the canvas before me.
I carefully set each foot onto the path 

A corridor of gentle dancing shapes of light.
Each day aligns to a course for my journey.

The heart of nature I seek,

And the soul of your presence, longed for.
It is here that I may find you,
My companion, my love,
On this side of the escarpment, where solace is found.

Each day is of the bending light.

(c) 2017, Ron McFarland


It must be an ecumenical truth that most days in life hide rich uncovered veins of golden sorrow. I, the seeker, knew that it once rumbled outside, but now lives within. Then afar, but the droning timber resounds within each of my steps forward. A repeated madrigal sung from a once distant whisper. Light from sunshine danced above, now rests in the soil below. The heavy shrug of sorrow hangs like a cape of flesh on these fragile bones.

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(c) 2017, Ron McFarland