He can shake the ground beneath me
And I can still walk the geodesic line of the earth.
He can take the mounds from mountain tops
And with incredible ease
Hurl them like meteor streams
As I dance around them in mirth,
Scattering like the rhythm of these words.
Perhaps, that is His plan all along:
To instruct my scattered movements
Like the stray sheep being chased
By the dog back to the herd.
I have wandered out before
On a sporadic course
To distant lands and empty vales
Stirring up my own tall tales,
But in the end I end up
At the same conducted source.
Is inspiration nothing more
Than direction from Heaven's door?
- Alexander McCurdy