Out Of The Mist
Time drops in decay
Like a candle burnt out
And the mountains and wood's
Have their day have their day
But kindly old rout
Of the fire born moods
You pass not away
For years I ran away from middle class Canada. Eventually my running led me to a small Indian village. I found myself being trained to be a United Church of Canada Village Lepled on Canada's west coast. Desire for village and clan awoke in my breast.
I had found my spiritual roots.
All living things must change. Eventually my time in the village ended. Once again my spirit rode through the mist and fire in search of a home. In time with M'Lady's help a new home was created. Not with clan and village but with great love on the side of a slumbering volcano. A place where in time we would find sacredness and peace.
Not a bad place to find in the winter of your life.
Brian
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