#9

distance makes the heart in its solemn steadfast rhythm, drum alone in still rolls. from peaks to lowest plains, space imparts windswept thought in the hollow silence of an absence. the height and breadth of a lonely climb narrows daily to the expanse of the horizon. coming down from within, meet me. come. stand the flatlands of where I stand from the ragged rock of your ascent turn from your axis. look back where I too have been. there descend. that sameness in a path marks the Word He speaks and where to find a foothold, hold fast by my hand since I have heard His command leading to follow.