A child, I walked a path of stone
through darkness to the dawn.
A youth, I journeyed so alone,
intent to carry on.
A man, I found my dreams were lying
on the path of "then"...
some comfort for the child there crying,
walking still within.
In middle age the light grew dimmer,
beauty hard to see.
The splendour of the path, a glimmer
hardly known to me.
But, older now, I see quite clearly
where it is I've been.
I've crossed the bridge of life and nearly
reached my home again.
The darkness served to give me leave
to grow before the sun.
The stone forced me, I now believe,
to walk till I could run.
The dreams were left by God as binding,
meant to keep me whole.
The path? Along a river winding
through my mortal soul.
