Time to Get Busy

I remember what he told me before the day.  Now, here I am passing each one by one by one until the blend into a blur.  My routine changes in hopes to remember that I am not just passing the same day over and over.

I write,  I create, I visit to see the places around me.  Did you know that He never traveled more than two hundred miles in any direction from his birthplace.  Even then, his effect was a shock wave hi and around and around to be for ever.

There is this place I remember.  It is in the fields along a wall of rocks about waist high.  It is at an intersection in the middle of the wheat that there is a lone tree.

I never thought that I would follow so earnestly this tale and invitation.  Half embarassed, it wasn't really me there when he talked of it.  Just overheard from a reading passed on, a message left for someone I dearly hoped would be

me too.

It was a nother time.

An innocent man.

Disappeared.  Exonerated.

I often wonder how that place might look, that place on the water.  And so I fall asleep between the tree and the wall, wondering.  And in the waking back to the walking, I looked forward to rise with the sun.

With hope.